#I want to be the annoyingly optimistic person in someones life | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bobohu4eva · 3 years

Text

Sweet Tooth (Part 3)

Characters: Baekhyun x Reader

Genre: Royalty AU, fluff, angst, eventual smut, mutual pining

Summary: Life as the palace baker got a lot more interesting after catching the devastatingly cute prince sneaking around your kitchen.

WC: 5.1k

Tag List: @wooya1224 @dixnysustae @bbhile @geniusloey @blahblahblah-boo @leave-me-in-the-summertime @baekyeonoreo @cupreoussyzygy @nana-banana

Masterlist

Baekhyun stayed true to his word. He kept you company almost every other day, usually just watching, talking, and snacking on whatever leftovers there would be.

It had taken several more visits for you to truly start opening up to him. Luckily his looks and his silliness balanced each other quite well, making him less and less intimidating the more you saw of him and the more he got comfortable with you as well.

You were surprised when he told you that he was actually a couple years older than you. It wasn’t that you found him immature, but he just had that optimistic boyishness to him that made him appear much more youthful.

Sometimes he would say things that worried you. Usually remarks about his family or his status as a prince. He never wanted to talk about it past those fleeting remarks though, quickly putting back on a smile and asking you about whatever you were baking that day. He seemed like the kind of person who would rarely let any negative emotions show, pushing them down and making jokes to try to make it seem like it wasn’t that big of a deal.

Sometimes you thought about pushing it, and trying to get him to talk to you about it. He was your friend, and you worried about him. But on the other hand, he was the prince. You had no right to try and force your way into his family’s business like that. He would come to you if he really needed you, you hoped at least.

You didn’t get nervous about his visits anymore. You had actually started to look forward to them quite a bit. He was a true friend. An annoyingly beautiful one.

In a way, you got used to that too. Of course you still couldn’t help being attracted to him, but you were able to fight it better now and act much more normal. You had really tried, and didn’t have a single mess up in front of Baekhyun since your tart accident. You just had to try a little extra hard when he was around, but that was okay. You took it as a challenge. After years of always doing the same thing having him there was still a nice way to spice things up.

You knew you had a crush, you were just learning to deal with it better.

Today was particularly busy. All morning you’d been preparing for some kind of event and Baekhyun just sat on his little stool across the table from you as you worked, occasionally asking if he could try something or why you did a certain thing. He knew that on busy days, it was better to stay out of your way. He always offered to help, insisting that you could just tell him what to do at any time, but that felt too weird.

“Are you sure you don’t want any help? I feel bad just sitting here.”

This was probably the busiest he’d ever seen you. It must’ve been a pretty big event you were preparing for and you had no time to waste, trying to get things done as quickly and carefully as possible.

“Don’t feel bad.”

First it was the sugar, then the flour. You ran out. You needed to go haul two giant bags up the stairs from the basement. You groaned.

“What is it?” He asked.

“I just have to grab new bags of flour and sugar.” You yelled over your shoulder as you made your way towards the stairs to the basement.

He followed you and you rolled your eyes, pretty certain you knew what was coming next, and it would not be good for your already weak heart.

As expected, he immediately scolded you for not asking him to just help out and ended up carrying both bags up the stairs for you.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want the help, it was really nice, but especially things like this that involved heavy lifting made you feel too much like some sort of damsel in distress and the fact that he felt such a need to always help out only made your crush worse and worse. It would’ve been easier to handle if he wasn’t always so nice and considerate.

“Why do you always do that?” He asked once you were back at your work table.

“Do what?”

“You never ask me for help even if you know it’s something I could do more easily than you. You always try to do it yourself until I notice it and go to help. You know sometimes I really worry that you just never get jars open by yourself if I’m not here.”

You grinned at his usual antics, “You know Baekhyun, I did this for years all on my own before you decided to pop in on me, I can handle myself.”

He shot you an accusing look. “So you’re saying that before I showed up, the jars would magically open themselves? No assistance needed? Or when you had to get one of those giant bags out of the basement? They would just float up the stairs? Come on, Creampuff, don't lie to me.”

It was surprising to you how much he seemed to like that nickname, and he especially liked to use it when he was teasing you.

Of course he was right, there were times when you couldn’t open a jar or there was an especially large bag of sugar that you couldn’t get up the stairs on your own. But he wasn’t the only one there to help. “Well I can also just go next door to the cooks and ask one of the guys there to do it for me too.”

His jaw seemed to tense before he spoke up again. “But you ask them for help, you never ask me though.”

You swallowed. That was also true, but it wasn’t for whatever reason he probably thought, asking him for help seemed like a boundary you didn’t want to cross, for a number of reasons. For one, he was the prince, and therefore you worked for him, not the other way around. It also made you feel too strange with how bad your crush had gotten, you didn’t want to seem like you were prying for his attention so you always tried as hard as you could to do things by yourself first. But he probably shouldn’t know about the second reason.

“Well I work for you, you don’t work for me. It’s not your job to come here and help me carry things and open jars.”

“Don’t remind me.” He mumbled. “It’s not their job either.”

He seemed oddly down after that but you didn’t have any time to dwell on it with how busy you were so you let him be. You decided to just focus on the task at hand, and let him eat some leftover icing so he wouldn’t talk so much. As much as you appreciated it on boring days, Baekhyun could be pretty damn chatty and on days like this one where there was a lot to do it could be a bit taxing having to talk to him too, no matter how much you enjoyed his company. If he was just another guy it would’ve been a different story but having to focus on talking to him and not saying anything dumb on top of all your work was a lot. Despite being much more comfortable with him now, he was still your friend that you were growing more and more attracted to, to the point where even just saying it was a crush seemed like an understatement.

You felt that disgustingly sweet, heart fluttering sensation that had been plaguing you for weeks now when you focused your attention back to him, watching as he scooped up icing with his finger before sticking it into his mouth.

Crush wasn’t a good enough word. You felt stupidly, helplessly infatuated, to the point where just watching him messily eat his icing had you working way too hard to fight the smile that was forcing its way to your lips.

Unfortunately Baekhyun caught on to these things quickly. Unlike you, he had nothing better to do in that kitchen than watch you as you worked, so he noticed every smile, every eye roll, and every time he would make you blush.

You assumed he knew, he just had to by now, with how bad you were at hiding how he made you feel. You’d accepted that, and that he didn’t see you the same way. You were just friends and he probably thought it was cute that you had a little crush on him, the silly little baker girl who liked the prince too much. But you knew it was best to keep it at that.

“Why are you smiling like that?” He asked as he once again licked a scoop of icing off his finger.

You shook your head, still smiling and looking down at what you were working on.

“I wish my mom would smile like that when I eat too instead of telling me I’m an embarrassment.”

He sounded far too lighthearted as he said it, as usual. It had been bothering you for weeks now. You knew you probably shouldn’t, but you asked anyway.

“Baekhyun, you don’t have to tell me anything, because it’s not my business anyway, but why do you say things like that? Sometimes I really worry about you.”

You had stopped kneading your dough, eyes remaining fixed on the soft mass beneath your hands, not trusting yourself to look up at him.

“You worry about me?”

Still looking down at your hands, you gave him a small nod.

“You don’t have to worry about me, I’m a big boy, I’ve been dealing with this my whole life.”

When you finally looked up and met his gaze he was giving you a soft smile, although you could see the hint of sadness in his cute droopy eyes.

“I just want you to know that you can talk to me if you need someone.” The words came out too quietly, but you meant it. It made you sad to hear him say such things and you wanted to be there for your friend.

All the sadness left his face when his cheeks pulled up into a grin, his eyes turning into the cutest half-moon shapes. “Aww, you really do worry about me.”

These were the type of things that made you so sure that he knew your little secret. His teasing you when you got flustered around him, and now this too. It almost felt a bit cruel at this point, that he knew how you felt and he still teased you about it like it was nothing. “You’re so mean.” You pouted, returning your attention back to your dough.

“How am I mean? I remember when we first met you thought I was the nicest.”

“You say stuff like that and then when I get worried you make fun of me for it.” You wanted to add something along the lines of ‘You also get a kick out of my stupid unrequited crush on you’ but you held your tongue. “Am I supposed to listen to you say those things and just not care?”

His brows furrowed at your question, and he paused for a minute.

“I didn’t realize you would care, at least not so much.”

Was he really this blind? This clueless?

“Of course I care Baekhyun, you said it yourself, we’re friends. Friends care when someone says things like that.”

“Oh..” His face had shifted into something you hadn’t seen before. “Then I’m sorry I worried you.”

You weren’t quite sure what it was, but he seemed genuinely taken aback by what you were telling him. It didn’t make any sense to you considering how obvious it was that you liked him, but you couldn’t exactly just say that either.

“You don’t need to feel bad. Like I said, I want to be able to help if you need someone to talk to. I’m here for you.”

You smiled when you saw him smile, his emotions rubbing off on you so easily with how much you cared for him.

“Thank you, y/n. I appreciate that a lot, really.”

As sweet as the moment was, you still had a lot of work to do. You gave him another smile and got back to what you were doing, and he stayed quiet as well. Eventually Baekhyun had somewhere else he needed to be and he excused himself and left, after sweetly thanking you again for your friendship and your kindness. There was so much about his actions that you didn’t understand, but you wanted to learn, to get to know him better and to really figure the guy out.

A couple hours after Baekhyun left you were finally done for the day, and as you were leaving the kitchen you found a small note where you always hung up your apron at the end of the day.

“Meet me in the garden at half past midnight, at the bench where you like to sit and read. That’s a royal order. - B”

You checked the clock again before slipping out of your room as quietly as possible, heart pounding in your chest in anticipation. Why Baekhyun had asked you to meet him so late was beyond you, and hundreds of possibilities, good and bad, flooded your mind with you powerless to stop it. The nervous giddyness you felt before he would show up at the bakery was nothing compared to this. What if you got caught? What would you say? What if he got caught? Or worst of all, if both of you were caught?

Despite your nerves, you had to go. Standing him up would feel too awful anyway, since you really did want to see him. And either way, you couldn’t disobey a royal order. You had never interacted with him outside your little bakery space, where people were popping in and out all the time and there was no real privacy for the two of you to talk about more serious matters.

You tried to walk through the halls as quietly as possible, unsure of if and where there were guards. Luckily it wasn’t too far from where you stayed to the gardens and you were already outside of the castle, feeling the warm spring air on your skin as you made your way towards your favorite spot to read.

Despite the darkness you could already make out the silhouette of your friend as he sat on the bench waiting for you. You smiled looking around at your surroundings. You had never been in the garden at night before, but the soft glow from the castle over the lush spring flowers in the dim light was breathtaking.

As you got closer you saw him stand up, and start walking towards you, meeting you halfway. He kept getting closer, and you expected him to stop but before you could fully process what he was doing, both of his arms were wrapped around you in a tight hug and he held you close.

For a second you stopped breathing completely, but after a couple seconds when reality sunk in you were able to catch your breath. Baekhyun was hugging you. And it wasn’t just some wimpy half assed side hug either, both of his arms were wrapped firmly around your back as he held you against his chest. Your whole body suddenly felt very hot.

“Baekhyun?” You said softly, bringing your arms up and around him as well.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long.” You heard him whisper.

If your heart rate had been a bit high earlier already, you were surely in danger now. And with your chest pressed against his own, of course he noticed, he always did.

You pulled back but his hands stayed on your shoulders and he looked down at you with concern. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m just jumpy, I was really scared of getting caught on my way down here.” You lied, trying to avoid eye contact with the close proximity of your faces. He moved his thumb, gently running it over your collarbone and you felt his eyes on you when it made you gasp slightly.

“Aww poor Creampuff.” He cooed, making you pout back at him. “After midnight there’s only one guard left outside the castle, and he stays on the other side, near the main gates, not back here in the gardens. We’re totally safe, I promise.”

You tried to act like that helped reassure you but there were still a thousand other little things running through your mind about him. You decided you just had to start asking the man if you wanted answers.

“Baekhyun, why did you ask me to meet you here? Isn’t this a bit foolish?”

He grabbed your hand and led you to sit down on the bench next to him. “Maybe it is, but since we’re friends I think there are some things I want you to know.”

You had been so caught up in your own worries that you hadn’t even noticed how nervous he looked too. When you sat down with him you were surprised when his hand stayed firmly intertwined with yours. His hand was soft and warm and felt just right holding yours.

He looked down at the ground and the hand that held your own rested between you on the bench.

“Baekhyun?”

He was the one acting shy now. This beautiful person who was also so far above you in so many ways, seemed genuinely nervous.

“I’m sorry if this is strange for you, I’m not quite sure what to say, I’ve never had someone I can talk about these things with.”

He was still looking nervously down at his feet so you decided to scoot a bit closer and face your body towards his. When you were looking at him, and gently squeezed his hand which was still holding yours, he finally looked up at you.

“What things? You asked. “About your family?”

He nodded. “I don’t even know where to start. Do you know how much I envy you? You get to do something you like every day and you’re so good at it too. There’s nobody telling you you have to be something you’re not.”

His eyes had drifted to the garden around you as he spoke, and his grip on your hand only grew stronger.

“What do you mean?”

You had an idea, albeit a very vague one, of what was wrong, from the things he’d said to you in the bakery. Often it was about disappointing his mother, other times it was something implying how he’d never be able to live up to his older brother.

“I never asked to be born into royalty. I know that it seems horribly ungrateful for me to complain, because I have so much and so many people would love to be in my position, but I’m just not cut out to be a prince.”

You felt the weight of his words sinking in as he spoke to you, looking at you with a newfound seriousness you weren’t yet familiar with.

“I wish I could be what they want me to be, like my brother is, but whenever I try I usually end up making a fool of myself or do something that makes my mom mad. I don’t know how he does it, he’s so good at all this stuff it makes me feel even worse for being so shit at everything. I just wish I could do something with my life that actually makes me happy.”

His voice was growing more and more shaky and you had no clue what you could possibly say back to him when he was hurting so badly, over something you’d never be able to fully experience or understand. Eventually you mustered up a meager “I’m sorry.”

“I know it’s probably hard for you to understand, but that’s a good thing, really. I wouldn’t wish this upon anyone.”

He looked so defeated and your heart ached for him, wishing you could somehow help, but knowing there was nothing you could do.

“Baekhyun, you aren't ungrateful and it’s okay to mess up, I can’t even imagine how much pressure you must be under, of course that’s hard.”

A small smile tugged at his lips briefly but disappeared as quickly as it arose. His eyes looked glassy. You wanted nothing more than to be able to comfort him, to protect him from everything that made him sad. He was so lovely and he deserved so much more than this.

“You’re the first person I’ve ever talked about this with, aside from my brother, but talking to him isn’t much help. I wish I could just be like the rest of them, and fit in with my family and the nobility without having to try so hard.”

His hand left yours and moved to wipe away the wetness in his eyes. When he didn’t lace his fingers back between your own, you took his hand and did it yourself, resting your hands on your thigh. “I don’t wish you were like the rest of them. I like you like this.”

It came out as barely a whisper, but with all his attention on you in that moment he heard you clear as day. He stared back at you, almost making you think that he didn’t believe you.

“Do you really mean that?”

You kept your eyes on him and nodded. “As much as you like to tease me, you’re so much nicer than I ever expected you to be. You’re also funny, and helpful, even though I never ask you to be. You’re really really sweet, Baekhyun, I like you a lot just the way you are now.”

With your last sentence you found yourself looking down in embarrassment, hoping he wouldn’t make fun of you for saying something so vulnerable.

“I like you a lot too.” You saw how his cheeks pulled up into a shy smile and although it was hard to tell in the dim moonlight, you could’ve sworn he was blushing as well. “You’re my best friend, you know.”

“I am?”

As much as you were flattered, and happy that he was so fond of you too, you always assumed he had other friends with how outgoing he seemed.

He nodded. “I told you, I don’t really get along with most of the people my family surrounds themselves with. Most of them don’t like me and think I’m strange and the few I got along with aren’t close with the family anymore, and I don’t blame them.”

“What about people like me?”

He just laughed, “There’s a reason we have to meet like this, I’m definitely not supposed to befriend palace maids, servants, cooks, anyone like that, anyone who doesn’t have some higher status really. I was worried that someone would rat me out for coming to see you so much but surprisingly nobody seems to care.”

“The kitchen staff all generally mind their own business, we know that what you and your family are up to isn’t our business. I doubt they care that you’re in my bakery so often. We aren’t a particularly nosy bunch.”

Baekhyun was smiling, and you were having trouble looking away. You were his best friend. He thought that highly of you. This beautiful, kind, lovely prince really cared about you this much, enough to tell you about his family and the things that upset him. And you were the only person outside of his family that he’d even mentioned it to.

“Baekhyun, you’re my best friend too.”

Baekhyun’s smile became even more blinding and next thing you knew he scooted himself to sit directly next to you, thighs pressed together, and he rested his head on your shoulder. You felt his breath on your neck, and tried to conceal how it made you shiver for a second.

“I’m glad I was craving creampuffs so badly that night.” He hummed and his low voice so close to your ear made your skin tingle.

“Me too.” You responded, squeezing his hand. “If you weren’t the prince, and you could do whatever you wanted, what would you want to be?” You asked him.

“I want to sing, and I want to be in love.” He replied softly.

You felt your heart flutter, you wanted him to be able to be happy, to do what he loves, and to love someone, someone he could actually be with. You couldn’t help the slight lump in your throat when you thought about how that could never be you.

“You can sing?” You asked, trying to ignore the other wish of his for your own sanity. “You’ve never sung for me before.”

“I haven’t in a while now, when I was younger sometimes I would get to sing at events, but eventually my mother deemed it an unnecessary distraction, and I had to stop.”

You frowned. “I’d love to hear you sing.”

With that he started faintly singing a familiar melody, a traditional wedding hymn, and of course his voice was just as pretty as the man himself. You were already so fond of his speaking voice, it wasn’t surprising to you that you loved his singing voice even more.

“You’d be a fantastic singer.”

He groaned, and leaned further into you. “It’s so unfair.” He whispered, and you could feel his lips slightly brush against your neck as he spoke. “Why don’t I get to be happy? Why do I have to live a life I don’t want, why can’t I love who I want?”

It was becoming more and more difficult to keep your composure with how he was pressed up against you, his lips almost touching your neck, breathing you in with every breath, his hand tightly intertwined with yours. Your infatuation was too much to bear, and with a shaky breath you leaned into him as well, resting your head atop of his. “It is unfair. So fucking unfair. I wish there was any way I could help, something I could do to make things better but I’m just a baker. I shouldn’t even be here right now.”

“You’ve done more than you realize. I have someone who will listen to me now, someone who’s nice to me and I can be myself around without feeling bad about it. On days when I can’t come see you, I just look forward to seeing you again the whole day.”

I just look forward to seeing you again the whole day.

The words rung in your mind, and you thought about the days when he wouldn’t be there. You missed him on those days too, and usually spent hours daydreaming about him as you did your work. His laugh, his smile, his silly jokes, his enthusiasm any time you made him something. It was just better when he was there. The bakery felt too quiet and lonely without him ever since he’d made it a regular thing.

“It feels so lonely now, working when you aren’t there. I always miss having you around on days when you’re too busy.”

You were glad he couldn’t see your face from where he was, and how hard you were blushing. Your heart felt like it was about to burst. The affection you had for him was overflowing, and with all of his sweet words whispered into the crook of your neck it was hard to not just start weeping. If you didn’t know better you would’ve thought that maybe, he actually liked you the same way you liked him.

But that was a foolish thing to even think about. He was a prince, and you were a nobody, a commoner. Even if he did feel the same way about you, you would never be able to be together anyway. He deserved happiness with someone he could actually start a life with, someone that his family would approve of, who he could marry and start a family with, and live happily together as royalty, like he was born to.

Did he not think that was possible?

“Baekhyun, why do you say that you can’t be in love?”

You wanted to protest at first when he sat up, but then he looked at you, and you saw the sadness in his eyes.

“I don’t get to meet people, fall in love, all that. Some day my parents will arrange a marriage for some sort of political advantage and I’ll just have to deal with it. The well-being of the people goes before any one individual's happiness, I suppose.”

This time you leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder. “That still isn’t fair.” You mumbled.

“Have you ever been in love?”

Have you ever been in love? You had to think about it for a second, but looking back on the past flings you’d had here and there, it was never really love.

“No, I haven’t. Have you?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“I’m not sure I know what love even is, in the romantic sense. I’ve been attracted to people, sure, but I was never able to act on it anyway. I bet it feels amazing, though. Loving someone and them loving you back. But of course people always want what they can’t have.”

He sighed, and you felt his thumb gently rubbing back and forth across the back of your hand.

“Even if it’s just for a little while, I hope you get to feel that someday.”

“Me too.” He whispered. “And I hope you get to live a long, happy life like that.”

You felt the lump in your throat again. Of course you wanted that, but your infatuation for him at that moment made it hard not to be sad at the notion that you’d never experience that with him. Of course you’d daydreamed about different worlds, where he loved you and the two of you could be together, but this wasn’t your reality.

You stayed quiet after that, focusing your eyes on the garden in front of you, the colorful flowers in the moonlight and the occasional flickering of a firefly. You and Baekhyun sat like that, simply enjoying each other’s presence, until you heard yawning coming from both of you, and decided it was time to call it a night before you could accidentally fall asleep.

Baekhyun thanked you oh so sweetly for coming and spending time with him, and gave you another hug before you parted ways.

As you drifted to sleep his words and actions rang in your mind, and you already felt yourself missing him and his touches.

Baekhyun, your best friend.

Next Chapter

#baekhyun #baekhyun fluff #baekhyun ff #baekhyun smut #exo fluff #exo smut #exo fic #baekhyun fic

152 notes · View notes

subterfugespecialist · 3 years

Text

Led to You

As a child, everyone finds their "soulmate guide," an animal meant to lead your soulmate to you. And one morning, Janus and Remus wake up to see a stranger's guide in their homes.

Written for Day 3 of @dukeceitweek : snakes/bugs

AO3 link

Pairings: Dukeceit, Familial Creativitwins, Platonic Loceit, Moceit, and Dukexiety

Warnings: Some Remus-typical violent thoughts, scorpions/tarantulas/snakes

Word count: 4228

Janus woke up to something brushing against his hand. He groaned and batted Dusa away while muttering "Five more minutes"

But when it brushed against his hand again, he noticed it was definitely not the headbutt from a snake. His eyes snapped open and he glanced down to see a fucking scorpion on his bed holy shit-

If his roommate asked if that was him that made the high pitched squeal that morning, no it wasn't.

He scrambled out of bed to look around for something to try and trap the scorpion under, but he didn't want to get near it what the fuck-

Janus paused. The scorpion was staring at him. At least, it looked like the scorpion was staring at him. It at least didn't look like it was trying to attack him.

Did... did it wave?

Now that Janus had calmed down, he noticed the scorpion was a deep, emerald green. Janus didn't know much about bugs, never had a reason to, but he never heard of a green scorpion before.

Could it be...?

"Hey, Logan?"

Footsteps came from the kitchen down the hallway.

"I was wondering when you were going to call me in," Logan said as he opened the door, his deep blue raven perched on top of his head, "What happened?"

"Can scorpions be green?"

"Why would I know that, Janus?"

"Because you know everything."

"Why are you asking?"

Janus pointed to his bed, and when Logan looked down he jumped back with a startled shout, disturbing the raven on his head.

The scorpion turned towards Logan and, yeah, the scorpion definitely waved.

After calming himself (and his bird), Logan slowly approached Janus' bed.

"...While I have heard of scorpions glowing green under ultraviolet light-"

"Oh, so you did know, you asshole-"

"I haven't seen a scorpion that looks like this, no," Logan said, crouching down next to the bed, "Is Dusa here? She was not under her heat lamp."

"Dusa? Come here, darling."

Dusa didn't crawl out of hiding, and Janus' room and the living room under her heat lamp were the only places she liked to be first thing in the morning.

"I guess she isn't."

Logan's raven, Minerva, hopped off his head onto the bed to examine the scorpion. She leaned down and the scorpion gently bumped heads. Minerva let out a happy chirp.

"My soulmate guide is a scorpion."

"Fascinating," Logan muttered as the scorpion and Minerva playfully chased each other around the bed, "I haven't heard of a bug guide before."

Janus glanced at the clock and put his hand down on the bed. The scorpion immediately ran onto his palm.

"I have class in an hour," he said as he cupped his hands and lifted the scorpion, "So how do you feel about business, corporate, and commercial law?"

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Remus woke up to Roman screaming. After a moment of debating whether to go back to sleep or not, he decided that, yeah, he probably should go check on the well being of his brother. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, Remus trudged towards the living room to see a snake curled up on the couch, with Roman's robin perched on its head.

"Peter, please come here!" Roman pleaded. But the little bird seemed perfectly content on top of the snake. The snake started to slither off the couch, making roman shout again. The robin flew onto Roman's hand and he relaxed a bit as he held the bird to his chest.

Roman took his gaze off his brother back to the snake and- oh look at that it. It was headed towards him.

"Remus stop standing there what is wrong with you-"

The snake was around four feet long with yellow-and-black stripes. Quite gorgeous, really.

Remus decided he wanted to pick it up.

He knelt down and outstretched his arm (as Roman continued to shout at him), letting the snake crawl up and around his shoulders. The snake nuzzled its head against Remus' cheek.

Roman stared at him, eyes wide and mouth opened.

"What?"

"You're insane."

"And you're a chickenshit. You've lived with a scorpion as a roommate your whole life and you're gonna freak out over a snake guide?"

"How was I supposed to know it was a guide!?"

Remus stepped over and placed a hand on Roman's shoulder. "...You're a moron."

Roman shoved him.

"Peter was fine. And we should be expecting to find strange animals in our apartment at this age."

"Oh, piss off to find your soulmate and stop bothering me for a while."

"Gladly."

Remus turned to go back to his bedroom.

"...I'm really happy for you, you know."

Remus stopped and groaned. "Roman, no sentimental bullshit before nine."

"But I mean it. You deserve this."

"...Thanks, you idiotic bastard."

Roman gave him a gentle smile as Peter hopped onto Remus' head and nestled into his wild mess of bedhead.

"Also you screamed like a little girl."

"Fuck off-"

Remus cackled as Roman shoved him again. Peter gave Remus a petulant little peck on the top of his head.

Peter flew back over to Roman while Remus held out his arms go guide the snake in front of his face.

"Are you gonna lead me to my soulmate?" Remus asked with a large grin, which only grew wider when the snake nodded.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Janus was very much enjoying having a scorpion on his shoulder. People instinctively stepped away from him, even more so than with Dusa, meaning he didn't have to fight his way through the crowded sidewalks.

The scorpion had been upset that Janus didn't follow its directions. It scuttled frantically from one shoulder to the other. It calmed only when Janus explained he had to go to class, but would follow its directions immediately after.

Janus was stopped in his tracks, though, by a corgi running up to him and jumping on his knees.

"Hi, Peachy," Janus said as he scratched behind her ears. The scorpion crawled down his arm in curiosity.

if someone's guide was a common house pet like a dog or cat, they were issued a special white collar to show they were a soulmate guide to be allowed in public places along with service animals.

But this dog didn't have such a collar. She was just a dog.

"Hey, Janus!" someone called out. Janus looked up to see Patton jogging down the sidewalk, his guide right beside him.

"Hello, Patton. Hello, Cookie," Janus said to his friend and the capybara standing next to him.

Patton had been Logan's friend first, and Janus hadn't been too keen on his... optimistic personality at first. But dammit, the guy's too sweet.

"Miss Peachy! What have I told you about running off?" Patton said with a light scowl as he reattached her leash. But of course, unlike a guide, she couldn't actually understand. She jumped off Janus' legs to go lick the capybara's face.

Janus didn't understand the appeal of keeping animals that weren't your guide, but to each their own, he supposed.

Patton's eyes fell to Janus' shoulder, and after the instinctive fear vanished a large smile took over his face.

"Oh! You've got your soulmate guide!!"

"Yep," Janus said as he resumed walking down the sidewalk. Patton followed.

"Ohmygosh, this is so exciting!" Patton exclaimed, practically bouncing as he walked, "How long have you been out trying to find them? Do you think you're close?"

"I'm going to class, actually."

"Really? Gosh, you've got more self control than me," Patton laughed, "I don't think I'd be able to wait."

"I've got exams soon, Patton. I can't risk missing anything."

"Oh, I'm not trying to change your mind! You do what you think is best. But aren't you excited?"

Janus was convinced Patton was smiling so hard his face was going to get stuck like that. But when Janus didn't answer immediately, his frown dampened.

"Hey, are you okay, Jan?"

"Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Oh, honey. You're nervous, aren't you?" Patton asked as his smile turned empathetic, which Janus thought was almost worse than excited.

The scorpion nuzzled against his neck, which was an odd sensation for sure, but Janus appreciated the sentiment.

"Of course I'm not nervous. I have no reason to be."

Patton tilted his head down slightly and gave him that look. The soft-smile dad-friend look that meant you were about to be comforted, whether you like it or not. Janus sighed.

"Okay, fine. A little," he conceded. He probably should be worried about how close that scorpion and its stinger was against his neck as it cuddled closer. But he'd never heard of a soulmate guide killing anyone, so he chose not to.

"Oh, sweetie," Patton said in that annoyingly soft tone. He wrapped an arm around Janus' and led him over to a bench. Peachy promptly hopped up to sit on Patton's lap while Cookie plopped against Patton's legs, giving Janus a soft nudge with her nose.

"It's not a big deal," Janus huffed, "I just think its reasonable to be nervous about meeting some stranger I am now expected to spend my life with."

"You have every right to feel what you're feeling. Such a big life change can be scary. But I'm certain your soulmate will understand your reservations and will go at any pace you're comfortable with."

While yes, the idea of a soulmate was a pleasant one, it was also a bit... concerning, to say the least. Janus was quite happy with where he was in life, and he wasn't too keen on the idea of something changing it all completely.

He was a bit surprised Logan wasn't his soulmate. He was the perfect roommate: neat, consistent, punctual. And Janus felt enough fondness for Logan that he was sort of expecting to wake up one day and have their guides just push them into each others' arms.

Alas, apparently not.

Janus bit his lip, debating. It would be good to talk about his worries. And as much as Janus pretended, he was actually quite fond of Patton.

"Patton, what if we don't work?"

"What do you mean, hon?"

"This person is supposedly meant to complete me. To make me better. But I'm perfectly fine the way I am now. I don't feel like I'm missing anything. What if I meet them and they just want to... to fix me? Because I'm expected to change for them?"

"Janus, your soulmate is meant to compliment you. Not complete you. You aren't missing any parts of yourself, because you're already your own complete person. And you certainly don't need to be 'fixed.'"

The scorpion crawled down to Janus' hands, and Janus ran his thumb over its back to pet it.

"But what if... what if we meet and nothing happens? Everyone always talks about their 'immediate romantic connections' but I don't buy it. What if we're doomed to always be strangers? After all, I'm not particularly good with people, Pat. What did I call you when we first met? A-"

"An annoying, self-righteous, dependent puppy with no boundaries?"

Janus winced. "Yeah. That."

A gentle smile grew on Patton's face as he held his arms out for a hug. Janus hesitated for only a moment before accepting.

"You don't need to worry about anything. Soulmates don't always mean romantic. Even if you don't feel romance at first, even if you never do, you two are going to share a tight bond and a special relationship different from anyone else you know. Nothing gets to take that from you."

"...Thank you, Patton. For taking the time to talk to me."

"Of course! What are friends for?"

Patton gave him a soft smile, and Janus gave him a rare, genuine one in return.

"Oh! I hope I didn't make you late for class!"

Janus looked at his watch. "I'll be fine if I hurry. Thank you. Again. Goodbye, Cookie. Bye, Peachy."

Peachy didn't react. Cookie gave him one last gentle nudge.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

The snake in Remus' arms couldn't guide in front of him like Roman's bird would or any sort of animal with wings or legs. While he could let it slither on the ground, it would be dangerous with how busy the sidewalk was. And Remus really didn't need to return the snake to his soulmate all squished.

So it was wrapped around his shoulders, reaching down his arms, and rested in his hands, guiding him down the street like a compass.

The snake turned back to look at Remus.

"What is it? What's wrong?" he asked as he kept walking, the snake shaking its head urgently. Only for someone to grab the back of his jacket and yank him back, pulling him off the street and narrowly missing oncoming traffic.

"Watch where you're going, asshole," the person muttered. Remus turned, ready to start shit, but instead broke into a goofy grin when he saw Virgil.

"Hey, emo!"

Besides Roman, Virgil was Remus' only friend. Most people were too put off by Remus', well, everything.

And Virgil had been too, at first. But the two bonded over their soulmate's guides being creatures most of the public feared and the stigma that came with that. And now he was used to Remus' bullshit.

"And hey, Helena," he said to the tarantula sitting on Virgil's shoulder.

"So. You found your soulmate guide," Virgil said. The snake reached over to inspect Virgil and he scratched under its chin, the snake then nuzzling against Virgil's cheek.

"On your way to find your soulmate?" he asked as the snake and tarantula started inspecting each other.

"Yep!"

"Are you nervous?"

"Nope!"

Virgil squinted at him, searching for any sign of dishonesty, but all he saw was the normal, excitable Remus.

"Shit, you're lucky, man. I've been psyching myself out over meeting mine."

"But aren't they, like, made for you?"

"Supposedly. But you know me. I can't stop thinking about all the bad things. Like what if they don't like me?"

"Well, that would be a them problem."

Virgil let out an amused huff. "Really? You wouldn't be bothered?"

"Well, yeah," Remus said as he watched the snake and Helena play peekaboo behind Virgil's neck. "But like, it's not like I'm not used to people not liking me. And if I don't know this person, what would I lose, really? So actually, this can only go up for me."

Virgil cast him a sad smile. Remus hated it.

"It'll be good for you," Virgil said as the two crossed the street. "You are a strange fucking creature, but you're a good dude. Mostly. Partially? Mostly."

"It'll be good for you, too, then. Cause you're better than me."

Virgil nudged him with his shoulder.

"Ultimately, I know it will be. My brain just hates me."

"You and me both, emo."

The snake curled back against Remus after booping Helena and resumed its role as soulmate compass.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Remus ended up on his old school campus.

Ew.

He had dropped out, and he had hoped he would never have to step foot back here again. Oh, well, C'est la vie, or whatever the fuck.

Though you needed to swipe a student ID to unlock the doors, Remus knew if he yanked hard enough the doors would give. He had managed to make it through a whole semester without his ID after he lost it.

A grimace grew on Remus' face as he walked back into the Taylor Building for the first time in over a year. It was named after his least favorite professor, and he had a lot of bad memories in this building.

Time to find his soulmate and get the fuck out.

He was just about to head upstairs when someone shouted at him.

"Excuse me! Only students and faculty are allowed in this building."

Yeah, Remus supposed he didn't look like the typical law majors that took up a majority of the classes here. Not with his spiked leather jacket and ripped jeans. He turned to see who had yelled at him.

And speak of the devil.

"Hey, you're Taylor!"

The man straightened his shoulders.

"Yes, I am. Were you a student of mine?"

"Yeah! I hated your fuckin' guts."

The man looked like he had been slapped before a sneering look of recognition appeared on his face.

"Remus Kingsley."

"Aw, I'm flattered you remember me. Especially since I dropped out. You encouraged me to, remember? Right after you called me a, what was it, 'moronic good-for-nothing- imbecile that would never amount to anything?'"

"You need to leave immediately."

Taylor had reached out to grab Remus but he bolted up the stairs, making sure he had a tight grip on the snake.

He wasn't about to give up on his soulmate that easy.

As they ran down the upstairs hallway, Taylor continued to shout at him. But Remus wasn't worried. He was clearly much faster.

He turned to see the disheveled man chasing behind him and laughed. This was kinda fun!

Then he had to turn around and run face first into the chest of a campus officer.

Well, bitchtits.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Janus' class was nothing out of the ordinary, except that his surrounding classmates had inched as far away from this as they could, and Janus was enjoying the extra space.

The scorpion had been still on his shoulder for the most part, settling in where Janus' neck and shoulder met. But now it stood, rushing down Janus' arm to the desk and running around in circles.

"What is it?" he whispered.

Right after he asked that, shouting was heard down the hallway. The professor and students all turned their heads in time to see someone running past the door, laughing, with Professor Taylor chasing after them.

"...Okay, then," The professor said, "Now back to your review material."

Janus hardly listened as the professor spoke. He was more focused on the scorpion that kept switching between running in circles and scuttling onto Janus' hand.

When the professor dismissed the class, Janus hung back. He preferred to let the crowd of students leave before him instead of trying to fight his way through.

By the time he walked into the hallway, it was mostly empty. Janus was holding the scorpion in the palm of his hands and it jumped to get his attention. It gestured with its body to go down the hallway.

"Alright, let's go."

The scorpion led him down a couple of hallways, and Janus heard shouting and the sound of running footsteps against the tile.

A man ran around the corner, his neon green combat boots skidding on the floor as he tried to stop. He had a mustache above a wild grin, with a streak of white through his hair.

He also had Dusa wrapped around his neck.

Janus stared. The man stopped in front of him.

"Fluffy!" he said to the scorpion in Janus' hands, who was alternating between running in circles again and hopping in excitement.

He looked up at Janus with a manic grin. "Hey! I'm Remus. I'd love to stop and chat but I'm afraid I've found myself wrapped up with something."

Two campus officers rounded the corner.

What the fuck.

Janus took the scorpion - Fluffy - in one hand and held it against his chest, grabbing Remus' wrist with the other and bolting.

Remus let out a delighted laugh as he let Janus pull him down the hallway and down a set of stairs.

Jesus, what did Janus get himself into?

He was heading towards one of the student parking lots, cutting through the Union. There would be lots of students and he hoped they could get lost in the crowd. But with two idiots running across the yard with a snake and a scorpion, people were parting a path for them. Which made them more obvious but at least let them through.

When Janus looked behind him, he couldn't see the officers, but he didn't want to risk it. It wasn't exactly hard to identify them: one with a large scar on the left side of his face and the other, with, well, a lot of fucking identifiable traits.

Logan would probably get mad at him for this, but Janus was sure he would be forgiven that same day if he made Logan thumbprint cookies. So Janus let go of Remus' hand to dig in his pocket, finding the spare key to Logan's car he gave Janus only for emergencies. Janus would consider this an emergency. Logan probably would not.

Janus unlocked the car and Remus got in without question. Remus hardly stopped laughing.

Great. So his soulmate was a maniac.

Janus pulled out of the parking lot and onto the street, gunning it out of there as Remus shouted in excitement.

"Fuck, yeah, dude!" he yelled. His seat-belt was not on, by the way.

"What the hell did you do?"

"Trespass, technically. But it would've been fine if that bitchass Taylor hadn't come along. And then I maybe assaulted an officer, but could it really be assault if I just whacked him when he tried to grab me? Anyways I already have three offenses - I guess four now - and I didn't want to go to jail or anything so I started running-"

"God, I'm going to miss my next class," Janus groaned, "What if they try to find me tomorrow?"

"How's your track record?"

"It's clean. Unlike someone, I don't get caught."

"Psh, then you're probably fine. you're a white law student."

Janus took a deep breath as he tried to collect his thoughts. What was even happening right now?

"...Okay, I may have fucked this up," Remus started, and he at least had the decency to sound sheepish, "I didn't mean to drag you into this mess, even though I was purposefully... searching... for you... Shit, I didn't even think about that. I don't think a lot, actually. I mean, I wasn't even paying attention on the way to find you. I almost got hit by a car. Could you imagine, Fluffy leading you to me only to find your soulmate and guide squashed by a car and our blood and guts everywhere-"

"Remus."

"Sorry, sorry," he groaned as his hands went to grab his hair, "I was really excited to meet you, and even when being chased by police my dumb brain only wanted to focus on finding you because I don't have many friends cause most people get weirded out since I can't control my thoughts or my mouth so, like, all the weird shit that pops int my brain just comes right out and I was really looking forward to meeting someone who wouldn't leave-"

"Remus, it's okay," Janus interrupted, "Deep breaths, okay?"

Remus took a couple deep breaths.

Then Janus let out a short laugh. He felt bad for laughing, but he couldn't help it.

"...What?"

"I'm sorry. I'm not laughing at you. The situation just caught up to me: You're my soulmate, we just ran from the police, and we just took my friend's car and wow. Can't say this is how I expected this to go."

Remus grimaced. "Sorry."

"No, actually. This is better than the sappy shit I was thinking about."

Remus perked up a bit. "Yeah?"

"Is it always like this with you? Am I sentenced to spend my life digging you out of trouble, now?"

"Yeah, probably."

Janus laughed again as he pulled into the parking lot of a shopping center. He had no clear idea where he was going, and at least this place had plenty of people and plenty of parking. When he stopped, the scorpion hopped off his shoulder and scuttled to Remus.

"Hey, Fluffy," he said with a smile as he put the scorpion in his lap.

"Hey, actually, let's talk about that," Janus said, "You named your scorpion Fluffy?"

"Yeah. I named him that to trick people. Scared the shit out of my mom when he first showed up. 'Hey, meet Fluffy,' then I pull a scorpion out from behind my back. It never gets old."

Janus couldn't stop smiling, and he was sure his face was disgustingly close to Patton's in terms of fondness, but he couldn't do anything to help that.

"I'm Janus. The lovely lady on your shoulders is Dusa."

"Janus. That's a badass name," Remus said as he scritched Dusa under her chin.

"Thank you for your help today, Dusa," Janus said with a grin as she slithered back over to wrap around Janus, "And you, too, Fluffy."

"Fuck yeah. Thanks guys. Shit, Dusa was awesome. I'm pretty sure that while I was running, she flicked her tail to open a door and it hit one of the officers in the face."

Janus glanced down at her. "You are an enabler."

She stuck her tongue out.

"Well, since we're already here, would you like to go on a date or something? It seems like you have stories to tell," Janus said as he gestured to the mall in front of them.

"Yeah," Remus said with a fond grin, "Are you hungry? I'm starving. Wanna go to the food court. On me. We'll have to be careful, though. I'm pretty sure I'm banned from this mall."

Janus stared at him before bursting out laughing again. This was his life now, and how exciting that thought was.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'd love to."

Thanks for reading! Requests are open in my inbox. Hope you enjoyed <3

#sanders sides #dukeceit week #janus sanders #remus sanders #dukeceit #logan sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #platonic loceit #creativitwins #platonic moceit #platonic dukexiety #janus fic #remus fic #dukeceit fic

93 notes · View notes

galaxiasus-a · 2 years

Text

me, logging onto xiv for the first time in a whole year: what the fuck is going on in this story

until I properly update my carrd heres a very quick rundown of my main WoL, Fuyumi!

°• ♔ •° THE STORY

Left orphaned by the conflicts of Garlemald, she spent some years of her life alone in the woods of Gridania. Hearing of its reputation of living in peaceful harmony, she aims for Old Gridania. There she was taken under the wing of Mother Miounne, who encouraged her to join any of the Guilds available, even outside of Gridania. Despite her young age, she was helpful with even the most difficult of tasks, this coming into play when she hears about an odd pair being suspicious in the Twelveswood.

°• ♔ •° THE HEALER

She at first started as a Thaumaturge, being heavily interested in magic. While she enjoyed the training and the spells that came with it she very soon came to realized that it simply wasn’t for her. So she returns to her home in Gridania and turns to the next best option of a magic user; a Conjurer. That was where it all clicked for her. Her nature to help others blended well with being a White Mage, making it a class she heavily relies on. However perhaps she is a bit too giving.. Her connection to the rest of the party makes her panic whenever someone on the team takes damage and thus wastes MP on things that are better to be saved for later. It’s one of her fatal flaws and one she continues to work on as she adapts more to the class and her true role in a party.

°• ♔ •° PERSONALITY

She is what others describe either as a sweetheart or annoyingly optimistic.

Fuyumi is the epitome of a sunshine child. She is rarely ever seen without a smile on her face, taking scenarios with as much of an optimistic viewpoint as she possibly can. She prefers seeing the bright side of things, finding hope in the darkest corners when things seem so bleak. Even going as far as to be blunt on personal things with a genuine happy tone in her voice.

She believes her purpose is to spread joy to others, making them feel better and giving them reasons to continue on with their tasks and missions. She’s always there to lend an ear, believing in them when they have no one else to go to. The type who would hug her remaining companions and friends before she leaves on a dangerous mission in case something were to happen. The type who rarely ever says no, if she has a package to deliver then she would take it without second thought and be off before she’s told where exactly she needed to be. Energetic, playful, curious, though knows when to be quiet whenever one is speaking on important matters and takes everything that they say to heart. Overall a child who refuses to let the gravity of things get in the way of her fun and need to explore her surroundings.

This attitude proves beneficial; she rarely gets knocked down permanently, getting blows from fights yet continues on with little hesitation in the name of protecting those she cares about. However when the worst happens, it hits her incredibly hard, her optimism shattering whenever there is any form of a quiet moment. She wears her heart on her sleeve, so it would be incredibly easy to tell when she’s not at her 100%. It takes weeks for it to be rebuilt, and she feels weaker due to this. Her naivety makes her believe that those exhibit good are in fact good at heart, making her at risk to get stabbed in the back later on if a person takes her kindness for granted.

°• ♔ •° MISC THINGS

Secondary jobs: Ninja and Black Mage. Really wants to take up a bard class because she always loved Bard music.

Younger than most WoLs (16), making her work extra hard to prove her worth, especially when some would use her age as a reason to keep her from doing anything too dangerous

Has the biggest crush on Alphinaud that deserves its own post but basically she seems him as the Disney-like prince to her princess and would do anything for him especially if it made him happy (those who write him don’t have to reciprocate these feelings, but she may give hints about her liking him)

An avid minion collector, sometimes to a fault because she would throw herself into danger, rummage through chests hoping to be rewarded one. Her favorite is the fat cat minion given to her by her mentor

Has a very hard time saying no to things, but rarely feels bothered by even the meaningless of tasks anyways

Wanting to be like her parent, she took up cooking, which led her to other hobbies such as gathering and fishing. She can make plenty of decent meals but much enjoys baking above all else

Has a habit of getting attached to adults that reminded her in any way of her parents; including Minfilia, Haurchefant, and Ser Aymeric.

Her Chocobo is named Zak, named after a childhood toy that she lost during the Garlemald conflict.

She is constantly wearing a yellow scarf. It was a present from her father, however after the events of Heavensward she sees the scarf as holding a deeper meaning than before.

#[ * FUYUMI. | HC ↳ if there's a light at the end ; it's just the sun in your eyes ]#shes baby #tell her shes ugly to her face shell be like :D thanks bestie #throwback to her not being my main wol but she was more fun to play so now im attached #puppy energy

8 notes · View notes

joel-millerr · 3 years

Text

The Change

Chaper Two of We Are One When Together (formerly A Mandalorian and a Smuggler)

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 9.9 K

Warnings: graphic depictions of violence. there is a scene towards the end that isn't exactly torture, but it is pretty graphic so please read with caution!, a bit of angst, and grief (talking about loss).... if there’s anything I missed please let me know so I can update it

Summary: You and Mando on your way to Nevarro so he can collect the bounty on your head but something happens, forcing you to land on another planet, and you begin seeing him in another light

Hope you guys like it!!

Tagged: @1800-fight-me🧡 // @tillytheslytherin🧡

As the Mandalorian’s ship—Razor Crest, climbs higher and higher into the sky, the sun’s beginning to rise over the city. Taking one last look at the capital, you mentally add “getting snatched by a bounty hunter” to the list of things you hate about Kijimi.

Maker, the silence in the cockpit is deafening. The Mandalorian doesn’t acknowledge you at all, his helmet glued to the windshield of the ship. You think about saying something, anything to break the awkward tension that seems to be multiplying in the small area of the cockpit, but from the very short time you’ve been with him, you don’t get the impression that he likes to talk. So awkward silence it is.

Once in the atmosphere, the Mandalorian prepares to make the jump to hyperspace. The stars’ light twinkles off his chrome helmet, and you’re too busy staring at him to notice another ship zip across the windshield, and then within seconds, the radar’s alarm is blaring through the cockpit. The shrill sound is piercing your ears and your eyes wrench shut, as if to try to block the noise out.

Two green beams of light appear out of nowhere, skimming the ship’s hull, and as the enemy spacecraft comes back into your peripheral for just a few seconds, your jaw nearly drops to the floor when you recognize whose ship it is.

It’s your ship. Someone is inside your ship, shooting at you. “That’s my ship!” You shriek, jumping to your feet and quickly making your way to the window. The Mandalorian says nothing in response, just letting out a couple of grunts and huffs. Your ship continues to bombard you with green beams, but the hunter is sharp enough to evade each shot. The jolts cause you to lose balance, and because your hands are still bound, it becomes more difficult for you to keep yourself upright without falling over onto the control panel.

“Get back in your seat,” The Mandalorian says through his visor. His voice is calm but stern. If he was panicking at all, his voice doesn’t give you the slightest suspicion.

You open your mouth to protest, to beg him not to shoot your ship down, to plead with him, but you know it would be a battle you couldn’t possibly win. Fumbling back into the seat to his right, a shot narrowly misses one of the thrusters and hits just above the belly of the ship. It sends you flying out of the seat, and you land on the ground hard, your shoulder taking the brute of the hit.

You hear two more blasts explode against the ship. The Crest is taking a lot of damage right now, but the Mandalorian manages to stay quiet during the entire ordeal.

“Let her go, Mandalorian.” A distorted voice comes through the radio.

Time seems to stop. The sirens still blaring through the cockpit penetrate your ears less and less until they are just a bunch of muffled clamors. That voice can only be from one person. The only other person in this galaxy that knows how to hijack your ship, and actually be able to fly it.

Tye.

Without any warning, the Crest begins a steep incline, and just as you’re finally able to seat yourself back in the chair, pulling the seatbelt across your torso and clicking it into place, the Crest flips upside down. If it weren’t for you being strapped in, you’d be flailing around the cockpit. The ship does a full circle before straightening out right behind your ship. The Mandalorian begins firing, three shots immediately pierce the hull’s integrity. The dark nothingness of space is suddenly luminated by a giant inferno; your ship begins plummeting back down towards Kijimi. You want to scream, to rush over to the pilot’s seat and scream into the radio hoping Tye would respond, but your body feels weighed down, like your limbs refuse to work.

As you watch your ship plummet towards the city, life drains from your body. For a moment, everything is still and fast at the same time. You had come to terms with your fate, you aren’t an optimist—not anymore anyway, but when you saw your ship, a flame—no, a glint of hope started to build in your bones. Maybe the Maker was giving you another chance. You were dead wrong.

Once the blaring alarm quiets, the Mandalorian initiates the jump sequence. The whole thing is over within minutes.

The Crest doesn’t spend much time in hyperspace though, because now the hyperdrive alarm is blaring again and you’re both launched right out, the ship spiraling in open atmosphere. The Mandalorian swears under his breath and begins frantically pressing buttons in an attempt to get you back into hyperspace. Despite his efforts, he’s unable to make the jump.

“Dank farrik,” The vocoder comes out strained.

“One of the shots must have damaged the hyperdrive.” You find yourself saying.

“Yes.” Is all you get.

He changes course and begins descending towards a planet you’ve never seen before. From space, the planet looks mostly swamp green, nothing particularly breathtaking or enticing.

“What is that?” You’re not really expecting an answer, just asking out loud, and you’re surprised because he actually answers you this time.

“Sorgan.”

You’ve heard of Sorgan. Some of your crew had resided on the planet since there was a spice smuggling base located there. Given the fact that Sorgan was a relatively unobtrusive planet, it was smart idea to put a camp. It was mostly covered in thick, dense forest which enabled the camp to be hidden fairly easily. Landing on Sorgan was a blessing in disguise. You could possibly send a message to the base there and maybe, just maybe, get rescued. Almost immediately you could feel excitement tingle your nerves. Okay, maybe you hadn’t lost.

Entering Sorgan airspace, the Mandalorian searches for a forest glade. It doesn’t take long for him to spot a small clearing just at the edge of a foliage of massive pine. He descends slowly, making sure not to hit any trees on the way down. You can’t help but be impressed by his flying abilities. He pilots like it is second nature to him. Always maintaining his cool demeanor, even if he is being shot at. Despite the fact that you resent him for possibly murdering the only person left you considered family and stealing your freedom, that aviator part of you is enthralled by the Mandalorian.

Once firmly landed, he cuts the engine and steps out of his seat.

“Stay here,” His voice is as deep as ever, not bothering to meet your eyes as he walks through the door to the cockpit and begins to descend down the ladder.

You linger in your chair for a few minutes, twiddling your thumbs in your lap. You’re not sure how much time you might have to send a message to your fellow smugglers, but you also don’t want to waste any more time waiting on him to come back. Fumbling slightly with your seatbelt, you all but leap towards the pilot’s chair to get to the radio. You finger toggles over the button to record your message. Why are you hesitating?

Chewing on your lip, and letting a deep breath exhale through your nose, you fight the urge to retreat back in your seat. Just as you’re about to record, you hear footsteps on the ladder behind you.

“Fuck, fuck fuck fuckfuck,” you curse under your breath and you scramble to get back to your seat without the Mandalorian seeing you. You hear his boots hit the metal floor just as your butt hits the chair. The beskar helmet peaks through the doorway of the cockpit as if he’s just checking to see if you followed his orders.

“No, I haven’t moved,” you say to him, annoyingly.

“Come down.” He instructs, turning on his heel and already making his way down the rungs of the ladder.

“Why?”

The Mandalorian stops in his tracks, “Because I can’t keep an eye on you if you’re in the cockpit.”

You really don’t want to go down there. Not because you’re scared he’ll throw your ass in carbonite, but because if he gets you down there, you’ll have no reason to get back up here and send out a message to any smuggler who might want to help you.

“You can trust me.” It’s a desperate attempt. Usually you can use your charm to bend others to your will, but the Mandalorian is unlike anyone you’ve ever met. You already know it won’t work.

“No.”

Pressing your hands down on your knees, you push yourself to your feet. You eye the control panel one last time and actually consider locking yourself in the bridge just long enough to get a message out. While the idea becomes more and more tempting by the second, you need to be smart about this. If you plan on escaping or getting a message out, it has to be perfectly timed and planned. It didn’t take him long to catch you, and you need to be a lot smarter the next time around.

So you head down the ladder like he told you to. The ramp is down, and your feet irk to run down the ridge and escape into the lush forest in front of you. Every instinct inside of you is screaming to run, to take your chances and hope to lose him in the fog of the greenery, but you have no idea where you are on this planet. You have no idea if the camp is relatively close to you or not. If you ran now, you’d have no supplies, no sense of direction, never mind the fact that your hands are still bound.

First things first then; get him to release the shackles.

He’s currently inspecting the damage Tye inflicted on the Crest. The hull of the ship is smoking, and there’s a few new dents on the sides of the ship, but there isn’t any damage that a couple days’ worth of work wouldn’t be able to fix. Luckily for you, that gives you a couple days to think of the best way to take off.

Not entirely sure where to go, you stay by the ladder, standing like an awkward kid waiting to be told what to do.

The Crest is much bigger than you thought it was. Most of the space inside the ship is housing the carbonite chamber with the three other companions you’re convinced you’ll end up joining. Next to the chamber is what you assume is a locker full of armory. You make a mental note to raid that locker before your escape. To your left, there’s a narrow, small cubicle that could only be used for sleep. Even though the door is closed, you can tell that it’s already too cramped for the Mandalorian, and you wonder how he can fit in such a tiny space.

Honestly, you’re more concerned about whether or not he’s ever had anyone in there with him. Surely if the space is too small for him, then he couldn’t possibly have had any lovers in there with him, right? Heat begins to coil in your stomach and the thought of that makes you shift in your stance. You really shouldn’t be thinking of whether or not the Mandalorian’s fucked anybody in his poor excuse of a bed, but you can’t help yourself. It’s been a long time since you’ve had the pleasure of being with a man or even taken care of yourself and it doesn’t help that the Mandalorian exudes this ferocious confidence and control. Does that make you wonder if he’d still as controlling when he’s balls deep inside you? Would be still be quiet like he is now, or would he be a babbling mess?

“Hey.” The voice pulls you out of your thoughts and causes you to jump.

The Mandalorian is standing just arms distance away from you, and stars, he is an absolute sight. Built like a monument—tall, firm and fucking intimidating. In your everyday life, you always walked with your head held high, refusing to show any weakness, but right now? Your head is down, only peering up at him through hooded lids. Something about the Mandalorian scratches a primal instinct in you that you’ve only observed in animals. Predator, prey—you’re giving up control, and what’s worse is that you actually like it. When it came to lovers, you had always been the dominant one. Every run you’ve made since you can remember, you were the one calling the shots, ordering your comrades around, but in the very short time you’ve known the Mandalorian, you can tell he likes control, and order.

You should hate him. You shouldn’t feel this kind of attraction for him, but despite your efforts, it’s there. You areattracted to him—he basically owns you now; it definitely shouldn’t turn you on as much as it does.

“Sorry?” You manage to choke out. Your throat is bone dry and Maker, you swear if he was any closer, he’d be able to hear your heart fucking hammering in your chest. His gloved hand reaches out and grabs the binds on your wrists. It’s not even his fucking bare hand but it has you holding back a moan. You wrench your eyes shut hoping it will alleviate some of the tension building between your legs.

“I’m going to unbind you,” The voice behind the helmet begins to say. “But if you run, I will catch you again and I won’t hesitate to throw your ass in carbonite. Do you understand?” It comes our breathy, almost like being this close to you is affecting him the same way it’s affecting you.

You can’t find any words, now. All you can do is nod slowly because your mind is on fucking fire being this close to him and you want to rip off that helmet and crush your lips together but also you want to drop to your fucking knees and show him how much he’s affecting you.

The grip on your wrists relaxes and he’s taking the binds and tossing them to the floor of the ship. You continue to stand just a few feet from each other. The visor is too dark to make out his eyes, and you curse the Maker for it. You’ve heard stories about Mandalorians. How they never take off their helmets in front of others, how they swear to the Creed to live a life of anonymity. You couldn’t possibly imagine living that way. It sounds incredibly restricting, but you do respect it. Everyone has their own beliefs in this world, and you aren’t one to judge another for the path they’ve chosen. Look at yourself, you were a nobody mechanic and then you became a spice smuggler. The path you’ve chosen isn’t exactly noble, so who are you to judge how the Mandalorians choose to live their lives?

It takes you a couple of seconds to realize he’s no inches away from your face. He’s halfway down the ramp when he calls you.

“Let’s go.”

You stumble for a couple steps and then pick up a small jog to catch up with him. The walk is a little uncomfortable now due to the slickness between your thighs, but you push through it.

“Where are we going?” You ask once you’re by his side. You look up at him but when he answers you, he keeps his attention peeled to the landscape in front of him.

“The hyperdrive was damaged.” His strides are much larger than yours, and you need to trot to keep up the pace. “I saw a town not too far from here. Hopefully there’ll be someone there that can help.”

You spot the town—barely a town, it’s just a couple of huts and then a bigger one at the centre. You wonder how anyone would choose to live here. It’s too quiet, too uneventful. There are a couple merchants selling krill—you know Sorgan exports a lot of krill and is basically the only way farmers make a living here.

You enter the common house—maybe it’s an inn, you’re not entirely sure. It’s nothing like the cantinas on Kijimi or Tatooine or any of the other planets you’ve visited. It’s ridiculously quiet and charming. There aren’t any patrons playing sabacc and screaming at one another when one of them loses, or others getting incredibly intoxicated on spotchka and brawling on the floor of the bar. Just a couple of humble farmers, some making a pit spot, and other locals keeping to themselves. It’s refreshing and also unnerving. You’re used to the commotion of more lively planet cantinas, staying in the shadows and observing, making sure you’d be ready in case someone tried to pick a fight with you. There’s no need for that here. Not only does everyone in this place look completely harmless, but you’ve also got a fucking Mandalorian on your left, and you doubt anyone would be stupid enough to try to fight him.

Unlike your choice to sit in the back of the common house, the Mandalorian chooses a table smack in the middle of the room. That’s the difference between a Mandalorian and a smuggler. You would rather choose a quiet place to sit, not drawing any attention to yourself. He—on the other hand, doesn’t put that much thought into where they should sit. Smugglers are always being hunted. Mandalorians? No one wants to fight them.

Once seated, you tense immediately. There are voices behind you, and not being able to keep track of what they’re saying, or if they move really distresses you. Granted, you doubt anyone here has a mean bone in their body, but you stay on edge regardless.

One of the women behind the counter takes notice of your arrival. Patting her hands clean on her apron, she walks over to you.

“Can I interest you in anything, travelers?” She asks, all smiles.

Her immediate kindness puts you at ease—slightly.

Before you can ask for some spotchka, the Mandalorian’s vocoder cuts through the helmet.

“Is there anyone here that can repair a ship?”

Her brows pull together tightly, pressing a finger to her chin. “Hmm… I’m afraid you’re out of luck. Sorgan is a farming planet, and we don’t get many visitors around here.”

He sighs, and you peek down from the woman standing over you to see his fist ball up on the table. “Fine.” It comes out strained, like it’s taking all his strength not to blow up and scream.

“Would you like anything else?” She asks again. “Maybe something for you, ma’am?” Shifting her body to face you, you open your mouth to answer, but the Mandalorian speaks first. “No, thank you.”

You whip your head to face him. You may be a quarry, but you still have some rights.

“Actually,” You point out, still looking at the helmet that burns right into you. “I’d like a bottle of your finest spotchka, please.”

He tilts his head just enough for you to notice, fist still balled up on the table. The lady seems to take notice of the tension, but she says nothing further. She simply nods and retreats to the bar. Returning swiftly with a bottle in one hand—two cups in the other, she places them between you two. You reach into the side thigh pocket of your pants and pull out a handful of credits and place them in her hand. She nods in gratitude. “Let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you.”

“Thank you.” The hunter grits through his teeth.

Immediately you pour yourself a glass and throw it back, a couple droplets leaking from the corners of your mouth. Using the back of your hand, you wipe your mouth clean. You know you’ll probably regret the little stunt you just pulled, but it’s been a long fucking day and you just want to relax for a bit.

Okay, so maybe you’re not entirely relaxed because there’s a Mandalorian just a few feet away from that seems to be getting more and more cross the longer you stay in the common house, but you also want to see how far you can press him before he snaps. Besides, he shot down your ship. You deserve this.

Three more glasses of spotchka later, and you’re feeling warm inside. The kind of warm that lowers your defenses and makes you giggle at everything. The kind of warmth that releases the tension that’s nestled in the deepest corners of your body, and makes your vision a little fuzzy. It’s probably early evening now, because the common house is getting livelier. They must be coming in for a meal.

“Get up,” The Mandalorian orders, rising to his feet.

“So soon?” You pout. You’re definitely feeling the effects of the spotchka.

“We’ve wasted enough time here. Now get up, we’re leaving.”

Normally, you’d fight till your last breath, but with the alcohol swimming in your blood, your inhibitions are lowered, and you’re way too relaxed to actually get your brain to fight back. Besides, there’s barely any spotchka left and you don’t have any more credits to spend.

Getting to your feet is a little bit of a struggle. Once standing up, the room starts spinning. Not enough to completely knock you off balance, but enough to make it difficult to stand without swaying. Turning on his heel, the Mandalorian heads for the door, cape mimicking his movements. Your legs aren’t moving as fast as you’d like them too, and the spotchka is really getting to your head, now. You drank a lot more than you should have.

Luckily you’re able to catch up to him, somewhat out of breath though. He doesn’t say anything to you—no surprise there. As you stumble through the forest, there’s a gentle breeze in the air. Tree branches creak as the wind passes through, and stray hairs from your ponytail brush across your flushed cheeks. You’re too preoccupied with enjoying the clean, fresh air to notice he’s now a couple feet ahead of you. The cape attached to his armour flows in the gentle breeze. Stars, you’re completely captivated by him. By the way he carries himself, like there’s not a shred of self-doubt behind that armor, and you want to know everything about him. Now that you’re pretty drunk, the thoughts you pushed away can roam freely in your mind. When was the last time he took off that helmet? Why did he—a Mandalorian, decide to be a bounty hunter? How many quarries has he captured in his life? How old is he? Are Mandalorians allowed to have sex with non-Mandalorians? Your mind is coming up with an endless number of questions, but you never find the strength to ask.

“You know, you could have asked me to help with the ship,” The words tumble from your lips before you can stop them. The Mandalorian stops in his tracks and waits for you to catch up to him. Once you’re at his side, he turns his head to look in your direction.

“What?” Deep, rough, and somewhat irritable.

Your shoulders shoot up and down twice, body swaying with the breeze. “I’m a mechanic.”

“Yeah.” He says, brushing off yours words and resuming his tread.

“No, seriously.” Chasing after him, you want to reach out and grab hold of his arm, but you catch yourself before you do.

“Just how much spotchka did you drink?” He taunts, voice condensing like he’s scolding a child.

“I… don’t know.” Holy maker, did you drink an entire bottle to yourself?

The Mandalorian actually scoffs at you. If you could see his face, you’re certain he’d be rolling his eyes at you.

“Okay, well I used to be.” You clarify, still struggling to keep up with his gigantic strides. Kriff how fast does he walk? “Can you just stop walking for a second, please?”

“No.”

You let out a loud, childish groan. At this point you basically have to run to keep up with the hunk of metal heading back to his ship.

“I used to repair ships with my father on Tatooine.” Your tone is breathy, your lungs trying to get as much fresh air as possible.

This makes him pause. Turning around, the ‘T’ of his visor looking directly at you. Stopping at arm’s-length away from him, you bend forward, hands resting on your knees. He gives you time to regulate your breathing.

“I can fix the hyperdrive. I’ve been doing it since I can remember.” You try to assure him. You don’t even know why you’re offering your help. The longer it takes to fix, the longer your freedom lasts, but the alcohol has made you soft, more accommodating. Seeming to come out of nowhere, your vision becomes extremely blurry. You swear there’s now two Mandalorians in front of you. Blinking profusely, your eyesight doesn’t clear. You feel like you’re floating while simultaneously being pulled to the ground. Fighting to keep your eyes open, you feel your limbs cave in, and everything gets dark.

The sound of crackling fire wakes you up. It must be late, because the fire is the only source of light. How did you get here? The last thing you remember was walking through thick forest with the Mandalorian and now you’re laying by a fire, back near the Crest. You can’t remember the last time you actually passed out from drinking so much. The spotchka here has to be stronger than any other time you’ve had it. You can handle your drink, and this is downright embarrassing.

Wait, did he actually carry you back to the ship? Despite the little stunt you pulled back at the common house? He could have easily thrown you into carbonite once you both got back to the ship and you wouldn’t have even known it, but for some reason, he chose not to. You want to ask him—to show your appreciation, but you hesitate. Maybe just letting it slide is the right course of action.

Propping yourself on your elbows, you see the Mandalorian sitting on an old, mossy stump. There’s something between his legs, but you can’t make out its features through the fire. Pushing yourself to your feet, you notice another stump just to your right. He must have put it there for you to sit once you woke up. You have a pounding headache, but the fire’s warmth helps a little.

You can now make out a few more details about the creature sat between the Mandalorian’s feet. It looks like a child, but you can’t be sure. Your eyes must be deceiving you because it appears to be green, the type of green you’ve only ever seen on the plains of Naboo.

Stars, its ears. They’re massive, just like its eyes. Your mouth curls into a smile. It’s adorable. You’ve never been partial to kids. There was never something inside of you that longed for a child, or to take care of one, but this little thing at the Mandalorian’s feet is making you rethink anything negative you’ve ever said about babies.

“What…is that?” You ask as you sit down on the stump he placed for you.

From the embers of the fire, you see the little thing’s eyes find you and it coos. Kriff, he’s so fucking cute.

“He’s a foundling.” Oh, so it’s a ‘he’.

You wait for him to explain, but the Mandalorian isn’t one to talk or elaborate unless directly addressed or absolutely necessary. Continuing to examine the child from a distance, it—no, he, is also looking at you, almost like he’s studying you as well.

“How did he come into your care?”

“He was a quarry,” His voice is quiet, the modulator distorting his tone to make it raspier than usual.

“You haven’t delivered him yet?”

Your eyes shift between the man in armor across the fire from you, and the small green alien-looking child between his legs. The Child’s head tilts from side to side as he watches you, the reflection of the flames glistening in his big black eyes.

“I did.” He deadpans and leaves you to fill in the rest of the blanks.

You want to bore him to death with questions. Why did he go back for him? Does this mean he’s its father? How does he plan to raise a child being a bounty hunter? Does that mean this kid will also become a Mandalorian?

None of these questions actually come out of your mouth, though. Given the circumstances, you don’t think the Mandalorian even has a clue what he’ll do, and it’s not really your place to bombard him with your curiosity.

So, maybe this Mandalorian was different from the stories you’ve heard—not that you’ve heard much honestly other than them being amazing killers, but if he went back for the Child, then maybe there was a soft, kind heart under all that beskar.

“I can do it.” Your voice is just loud enough for him to hear you. You continue to stare into the flames, waiting to see if he’ll respond. He doesn’t, but that’s fine with you.

You’re not entirely sure when you even fell asleep but when your eyes flutter open, you’re lying on the ground, back against the uneven terrain. Using the ground to push you up to your feet, you shake the dirt off your pants and begin stretching your back by twisting your torso until you hear a satisfying crack. Your mother used to scold you for cracking your back. “You’re going to hurt yourself one day,” she used to say. When you were a kid, you’d roll your eyes at her and then she’d give you a gentle but still stern slap across the arm, the kind of slap only a mother could get away with doing. You were never really one to listen to authority, so it’s a habit you never grew out of.

It’s a beautiful day. The sun is beaming down on your skin, not a single cloud in sight. Sorgan is quite breathtaking, really. On most planets, no matter where you are, you can hear the commotion of city centres or see ships coming in and out of the atmosphere. Not on Sorgan, though. The only sounds you’re able to make out are tress swaying in the breeze, and the occasional bellow of the beasts in the forest.

The sound of the Child startles you. He’s at your feet, little arms extending out to grasp the material of your trousers. When did he get here? You crouch down and wave your index finger at him, little coos emitting from the green baby. His three-fingered hand wraps around your finger. This warm calmness comes over you, putting you at ease. Untensing all your muscles, your aches disappear, and the only thing that exists is you and the Child. You close your eyes, completely giving into the stillness. Maker, you swear you can hear the Child say something. Your eyes are still closed, and you don’t actually hear him say anything, but he is. You hear it in your mind—It’s faint and muffled, and you have to focus all your energy into narrowing down what he’s saying, and then it becomes as clear as day.

Grogu.

“Good. You’re up.”

The Mandalorian’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts. He’s headed straight for you, just as stoic as ever; the sun’s light ricocheting off the beskar. The Child’s grip slackens, and you straighten out to meet the Mandalorian’s gaze. Your breath hitches as he continues to make his way towards you. Something as simple as a walk shouldn’t make you feel the way it does, but you can’t help the way your body reacts to him. Shifting in your stance, you can’t help but notice the heat building in your lower abdomen. Stars, get a grip. He’s the enemy, you shouldn’t allow yourself to feel this.

Leaning over, he picks up the Child and holds him with one arm. Almost immediately, you observe the way the Child wraps his tiny hand around one of the Mandalorian’s gloved fingers. There’s no stopping the stupid, shit-eating grin that appears on your face.

“The hyperdrive.”

“Right.” You respond, the smile falls from your face and you stand there awkwardly for a few seconds. The Mandalorian turns his back to you and makes way for the Crest. You follow him like a lost puppy, keeping a couple feet distance between you and him.

Once inside, he sets the Child down on one of the cargo crates near the ladder leading up the cockpit. You head up the ladder first, and he quickly follows suit. To your left is a small cubby hole in the wall that accesses all the wiring to the hyperdrive. It’ll be a nightmare to crawl in and out of, but you offered your services to him, so you can’t turn back now.

“I’ll get straight to work, then.” Turning away from him, you crouch down to your knees to examine the damage. There are various wires that are disconnected and thrown around, smoke emitting from one of the panels hidden inside the wall, and looks just about as worse as it can get. You’ve never seen anything this bad, before. How the Kriff was he able to fly this ship in such a horrible state? You start by grabbing a blue and red wire that hang loosely off the wall. A bit of copper and aluminum cords are splitting at the end of the cable which makes you think they might have touched each other causing some kind short circuit. Shrugging off the idea, you start to work.

After working on the hyperdrive for a couple hours, you decide to take a break. Climbing down the ladder near the cockpit, there’s no sign of the Mandalorian or the Child. All of a sudden, you’re aware of how sticky your body feels. Dirty, grimy, and uncomfortable. Now would be the perfect time for a shower. You turn your head to the fresher behind you and consider taking one, but you don’t want to intrude. You’re still a quarry and you assume the Mandalorian wouldn’t appreciate you taking a shower in his refresher. On your walk to the common house yesterday, you had spotted a lake not too far away. Maybe you could take one there. Then again, if you were to venture off, he might think you’ve run off. Your eyes shift between the fresher and the outside.

“You can clean up in the fresher.” Despite his tone always been low and rough, it still startles you. You whip your neck to see the Mandalorian leaning against the wall of the ship. You swear he wasn’t there a second ago so to see him just a few metres away from you not only puzzles you, but sends immediate shockwaves to your cunt. You feel like you’re being stalked, and it shouldn’t turn you on as much as it does. The Mandalorian is built like a goddamn Star Destroyer; one look at him and you’re instantly intimidated, almost scared. You’ve never met anyone who can be so big yet so quiet, so frightening yet also so caring. It’s actually quite impressive. From his demeanor, no one would be able to guess he’s got a fucking kid back in his ship.

At first you want to protest, not wanting to push any boundaries or make either of you feel uncomfortable, but you know he’ll end up winning any argument you try to make for yourself, so instead you give him a quick nod before turning on your heel to the refresher. You don’t turn back to see if the Mandalorian is still looking at you, but your cheeks feel red hot anyway.

The fresher is pretty small considering the size of the ship, but if he somehow manages to fit in here, you have no problem. The water is warm, and cascades over your skin, instantly relaxing you. It feels amazing until it suddenly doesn’t. Your arm is burning, it’s on fucking fire and then it hits you. Looking down at your arm, you see scorched skin and are reminded of your injury from… well you’re not quite sure how long it’s been since he captured you back on Kijimi. It’s maybe been two or three days since. In the same moment, you realize you never got to put any bacta spray on it to stop any kind of infection. The skin surrounding the wound is turning a deep green-purple shade. Not a good sign.

“Kriff…” You whisper. You were supposed to put some bacta on it once you got back to your ship but obviously, things went differently than you expected. You take the bar of soap sitting on one of the ledges inside the fresher and begin washing away the dirt and sweat from the last couple of days, being extra careful when cleaning the area around your injury. Realistically, you could stay here for hours, letting the warm water drip down your figure, completely soothing your sore muscles and calming your mind, but you don’t want to take up more water than necessary.

When you come out of the fresher, there’s a pile of clean clothes resting on the rungs of the ladder. Tilting your head at the garments in front of you, you take them in your hands and smile to yourself. He must have gone out while you were working on the ship and somehow was able to find you some clean clothes. You change quickly, out in the open, hoping he won’t walk in and see you—okay maybe you do kind of hope he’ll see you. Once you’re fully clothes, you’re pleasantly surprised to notice they fit you perfectly. The cargo pants hug your frame like a glove, and you can’t help but notice they make your ass look great. Your tunic snatches your waist and is low cut enough for just the smallest amount of cleavage to pop through.

Taking the ladder two steps at a time, you reach the top in record time. You can see the smooth convex of beskar in the pilot’s chair, so instead of immediately resuming your work, you poke your head into the doorway of the cockpit. The Child’s pram rests on the seat to your left. It’s closed which means he’s probably asleep in there.

“Thank you for the clothes…” You’re not sure what to call him, since neither of us have actually properly introduced yourselves. However, you’re sure he knows your name given there’s a bounty on your head.

He doesn’t turn to face you, just continues whatever he’s doing. “Mando,” He clarifies, somehow answering the question you were thinking. “And you’re welcome.”

You linger for a couple seconds, not entirely sure why. He’s not much of a talker, but you still want to hear his voice. Before you can conjure up with something to say, he breaks the silence.

“When will you be done?” There isn’t any annoyance in his tone, which is usually accompanied by that question. You heard it all the time when you worked back at the hangar. “Hey lady, when are you going to be done?”, “What the Kriff is taking so long?”. You’ve grown to let those condescending questions roll off your back, but the Mandalorian’s tone is surprisingly gentle. Maker, are you falling for the Mandalorian?

“Well,” You begin, taking a few steps into the cockpit. Your hand comes up and latches onto your forearm, squeezing it. “I noticed that the hyperdrive was only functioning at 50% capacity before it broke down completely, and I was going to ask if you wanted it back at 100% before we takeoff because that’ll take—”

“Just fix it enough for us to get back to Nevarro.” He interjects, the baritone coming out dry.

It catches you off-guard, but you’re quickly reminded once again that you aren’t just somebody fixing the ship. You are a prisoner, and he doesn’t actually owe you any more kindness. He was kind enough to let you live, let you clean yourself in his refresher, and give you clean clothes. You’re chewing on the flesh inside your cheek, wondering if there’s something else you should say, but nothing worth saying comes to mind. He must notice your presence still there, because he swivels the pilot’s chair to face you. You swallow the giant lump in your throat and shift in your stance.

“You’re hurt.”

You glance over to your arm and then back to the visor. “It’s nothing.”

Pressing down on his knees to stand, the Mandalorian stalks towards you. Nerves and arousal are pooling in your stomach, now. Your chest is heaving as he gets closer. Stopping just at arm’s length, a gloved hand reaches out and clasps just underneath your injured bicep. The touch makes you pull back, not because it hurts but because it feels too fucking amazing. You’re seeing stars and he’s barely even touched you. Mouth agape, your breathing is so fucking uneven.

“That’ll need more than just cauterizing in order for it to properly heal,” His hand now moves down, ever so gently caressing your elbow. Your head dips down, unable to look at him directly. It’s pathetic really. You’re usually a fairly strong-willed person, who doesn’t bend at the will of anybody. You stand tall, even despite your size. Others in the smuggling game have a huge respect for you and see you as a leader, but now you’re cowering under the Mandalorian. You’d obey every one of his commands if he ordered it. All the power you hold, your bad habit of resisting authority would vanish in an instant if he pushed you.

“There’s bacta spray in the medical kit near the armory. You should take care of that before it infects.”

Your brain is racing, and the ability to form words had completed disappeared. All you can offer is a barely noticeable nod. You want to stay in this moment for as long as you can. Just the two of you standing inches apart, the tension growing thicker and thicker in the small area of the cockpit. You wonder if he feels it, too. If he wishes for this intimate moment to last forever. Swallowing your nerves, your eyes shit from the floor up to the visor. Trying to gauge for some kind of reaction but even if he is affected by this, his body gives no sign of it. Must be all in your head, then.

The Mandalorian’s finally the one to break up your little moment. He lets go of your elbow and you fight back the moan that threatens to escape your lips. You want him to touch you again, anywhere and fucking everywhere. He sits back in the chair and rotates it towards the control panel, so his back is facing you again. You probably linger a little longer than you should before finally retreating back down the ladder to get the bacta spray.

Once the spray mists over the gash, you instantly feel relief. The strain you didn’t realize was still in your body dissipates and you let out a deep breath through your lips. Thank the Maker for bacta spray.

The next few days go by relatively fast. Despite the awkward/sexual tension that clearly exists between you and Mando, you’re able to endure it. The encounters don’t last that long anyway. Usually, he’ll ask you about the progress on the hyperdrive. The conversations don’t last particularly long, but it’s enough to work you up into a sweaty mess.

And if you’re being honest, you probably could have fixed the hyperdrive in two days. You’re a damn natural when it comes to repairs, and you’ve fixed hundreds of hyperdrives in worse shape believe it or not. But you’re were taking your sweet ass time, giving yourself more time to be with Mando. It’s silly and childish, but you truly enjoyed his company, even though the conversations are mostly one sided.

Unfortunately though, the job had to get done. Once Mando noticed the hyperdrive had been fixed to 65% capacity, he was satisfied enough with your work. He decided you’d spend one last night on Sorgan and then leave at first light.

You’re all sitting by the fire. The Child propped up on a stump between the two of you. The night is calm, not a single breeze passing through the trees. A clear sky showered in stars. Forgetting the fact that this is essentially your last night of “freedom”, you’re really loving this.

“Twenty thousand.”

You’re in the middle of sipping bone broth you bought off a merchant in town—with Mando’s credits, when his voice catches your attention. “Hmm?” You mumble, using the back of your hand to wipe the little dripples of soup that trinkle down your chin.

“You asked me how much your bounty was,” His helmet stares into the fire a few feet away from him. The orange hues reflecting off the beskar.

Your lips form a thin line. You didn’t know the New Republic had that kind of money to spend. Twenty thousand is a pretty generous bounty.

“Wow, that’s pretty high.” That’s actually really high. It’s hard to make an honest living, and the New Republic throwing around thousands of credits like that makes you uneasy. Instead of using that as an incentive for other to hunt criminals, it should be distributed to those less fortunate. The thought makes you chuckle to yourself. A smuggler explaining how a government should be run. How noble of you.

“I wasn’t born into this, you know…” Your voice trails off, unsure if Mando wants to hear you or not. The helmet turns in your direction, giving you permission to continue. The Child looks up at you and coos. Your eyes avert their gaze to stare into the flames.

Clearing your throat, you begin. “I was raised on Tatooine. My parents were lucky enough to own a hangar, so my dad worked there, and my mom was a seamstress. Just a couple of ordinary people.” You weren’t particularly less fortunate than anyone else in your town. Your belly was always full, and you always had clean clothes on your back. Most of the residents in your village weren’t as privileged but your parents were generous, offering what little excess they had was given those who couldn’t afford food or clean garments.

Early on, they taught you never to flaunt what you had, always be humble when speaking to others, and to always be respectful. You loved your parents more than you could say, and ever since they died, you shut off a part of yourself. Heartbroken and alone, losing yourself in work seemed like the only way to cope with the loss. The more sorrow you felt, the more work you forced on yourself. If it weren’t for Tye, you’re not sure if you would have been able to get through it.

And ever since then, you vowed never to let yourself experience any kind of love again. The risk was just too high. Not knowing if one day your loved one would come home or not, investing so much of your soul into someone, relying on them only to have it snatched away from you without warning; it just seemed foolish. When they died, you cried every morning and every night for months, until one night you vowed never to cry again.

And you haven’t since.

People called you heartless, scum, cruel, but their words never managed to pierce the iron exterior you mentally built for yourself when your parents died. No one would be allowed to access that sensitive, caring part of you. Not even Tye. You loved him like a brother, but once that loss had punched through you, you could never look at him the same. There was a distance, now. Whether he knew it or not, he never confronted you about it. He gave you space, and when you were ready to let him back into your life, albeit not really back in, he never pressured you or expected your relationship to go back to how it was.

“So when they passed, I just felt like I was lost. I needed to escape.”

“And smuggling was your only option?” There’s a hint of mockery in his tone.

“Yeah, I’m a smuggler and you’re a bounty hunter. We all make choices in life. I’ve made my peace with that.” Your tone comes out a little more defensive than it should, and you think about apologizing, but fuck it. You have nothing to lose anymore. Even if you thought he might not turn you in, the possibility of getting twenty thousand credits is too much of an opportunity to pass up on.

Neither of you speak for the rest of the night.

You’re awakened by Mando nudging your feet with his. You snap out of deep sleep, rubbing your palms against your eyes. Sitting up, you moan softly and begin trying to adjust your vision to the Sorgan darkness. The only light that the night offers is the moonlight reflecting off Mando’s armor. The helmet’s looking directly at you, and a finger comes up to where his mouth would be, signaling to be quiet. Still half-asleep, you nod.

Ever so slowly, you rise to your feet and quickly brush the dirt off your pants.

“Get to the ship,” He orders, voice low and gruff.

“What’s going on?” You whisper, still standing in place.

“Hunters.” He says. “Get to the ship.” Mando orders again, his tone becoming much more assertive. You want to fight. You’ve never run from a fight before, and you’re not about to start now.

“I can help.”

Before having the chance to respond, red blasts come flying through the trees in the distance. Mando grabs you by the waist and shoves you behind him, shielding you with his body. “Get to the fucking ship!” He yells.

You want to argue with him, really you do. Realistically, you know he could probably take care of this himself, but that doesn’t mean you want to cower away and hide in the ship while he takes care of business. Then panic swarms you.

The Child.

Your head whips back and forth, and the relief that comes over you when you catch sight of his pram just your left, the gloomy night shielding him from sight, instantly calms your nerves.

The shooting stops all at once, becoming eerily quiet. Mando pivots, trying to keep eyes all around him. Your body mimics his movements, even though you’re completely defenseless. Twigs snapping, bushes rustling—not from the breeze, but from intruders trampling over them, coming closer. One, two, three, four hunters come into view, flanking you from all angles.

Okay, so this worse than you thought.

“Ah, Mando!” One of them calls out, blaster pointed directly at Mando’s chest.

“We don’t want any trouble, Mando,” Another pursuer taunts. “We just want the girl.”

Fuck.

They begin drawing in closer. You don’t want to underestimate Mando’s ability to fight, but with four hunters closing in, and having only one blaster, you’re not seeing how he can win this. You’re conjuring a plan inside your head and praying that he’ll catch on. If someone’s going to get credit for your capture, it sure as hell isn’t going to be this gang of thugs.

“Fine.” You throw up your hands in defeat, stepping aside from the shield that is Mando. You face the man directly in front of you, assuming he’s the one who’s leading the charge.

“What are you doing?” Mando’s voice is fucking low, somewhere between a whisper and a growl.

“Trust me.” Your tone gentle, eyes pleading with him.

You begin taking slow footsteps towards the blaster pointed now at you. “I can assure you, I’m more valuable alive, so why don’t we put our blasters down before someone gets hurts?” Arms still up, hesitating to take any more steps forward.

“You think we’re stupid enough to listen to you?” One of them shouts behind you. You flinch on impulse. Your chest is heaving, but you need to a grip if you plan to walk away from this alive.

You can slightly make out the hunter’s features. He looks somewhat familiar, like when you see a stranger in a dream, but you can’t pinpoint where you’ve seen him before. You’ve encountered plenty of hunters before, maybe they’re just all starting to look the same to you. Only Mando stands out, now.

The moon’s mellow and radiant reflection is starting to make out the hunter’s features. He doesn’t look entirely human, but you don’t manage to get close enough to actually see what he is.

“Hi, sweetheart.” The hunter sneers, his mouth curling into a malicious grin.

Stopping dead in your tracks, you remember who this is—but how? You shot him in the chest. You saw him fall. Sure, you didn’t actually check to see if he was dead but how could anyone survive being blasted directly in the chest? You must be remembering wrong. No, he shouldn’t be here. He can’t be here.

“Surprised to see me?”

You refuse to show your disbelief, keeping your jaw tense. “No, it’s just more target practice.” You spit.

Eerie laughter erupts from deep inside the man opposite you. Never slacking on the grip on his blaster, he shifts the barrel from your chest to directly between your eyes. Okay…what the fuck do you do now?

Mando and the kid are still a few feet behind you. You’re running out of ideas, fast. If you went to attack your pursuer, he’d definitely shoot you before you got close enough to him, and the three behind you would shoot Mando down before he even had time to react. You need to play this out smart, maybe you could—

Before being able to finish your thought, you hear whistling, and bodies hit the ground. Instinctively, you want to look over your shoulder to see what happened, but there’s still a blaster pointed at your face, and you’d be dead if you wasted even a second to turn around. Charging at him, you narrowly miss three blasts as they come flying by your cheek, shoulder, and neck. Once you feel close enough, you lunge at him, knocking you both to the ground. Your body lands on top of his, the blaster rolling a few feet away from your conjoined bodies. Grabbing hold of the lapel on his jacket, you wind up your fist and connect it with his jaw. He cries at the pain, retaliating by slamming his knee into your abdomen. The air is completely knocked out of your lungs, but you stifle the wail that threatens to spill you. You refuse to give him the satisfaction.

You reach out aimlessly for the gun, and the joy you get when you feel the gun in your hand is unmatched. Scrambling to your feet, and clutching the gun in your hand, you point it at him. Mando wastes no time rushing to your side, blaster also on him.

“Don’t.” You tell him. No, you want this kill to be yours.

For a moment, you think he’ll ignore you and shoot him anyway. The man on the ground, now resting on his elbows spits, droplets of blood landing on the ground, a small trail dribbling down his chin. It shouldn’t bring you this much satisfaction, to see him bleed and completely at your mercy, but reason has escaped you. You want to hurt him; you want him to feel as much pain as any person can take. He threatened you, Mando, and the kid. He’ll pay for it, you promise.

“Go ahead, kill me.” The man swears. “But know that we’re only the beginning. You think you’re the only one who got a tracking fob, Mando?” A smile curls up on the corners of his lips. Your body is hot—it’s actually scorching. This surpasses any emotion you’ve ever felt before. The scalding need for blood and pain engulfs you. You’re not even sure why you feel so angry, but you are.

“Hunter scum,” You spit, kicking him hard in the stomach. More red fluid punches out of his mouth, causing him to cough aggressively.

“Hey,” Mando’s free arm grasps on to your bicep. “Stop.”

Your head’s shaking violently. No, he needs to suffer. “No, I’m gonna savour this.” You swing your leg back to kick him again, but Mando’s voice rips through the vocoder. “Stop!” It comes out aggressive, like he’s giving you an order.

Your jaw is tight, every fiber in your body is telling you to shove Mando out of the way so you can wreck this hunter scum that lies at your feet.

“You g-gonna let him order you around like that, sweetheart?” His last word cuts through you like a vibroblade to the chest. Your free hand balls up into a fist, white knuckling so hard, you’re sure you’re breaking skin with your nails. The man on the ground laughs, he’s fucking laughing at you and that’s the final straw, the thing you needed to push you over the edge. Unclenching your fist, your hand shoots up and flexes around what you imagine is his neck. He coughs, and starts gasping for air. Shaky hands shoot up to his own throat, as if he thinks that’ll somehow relieve the pressure you’re creating. It feels good, seeing him fucking struggle for breath, watching the light behind his eyes becoming dimmer and dimmer. It’s happening all too fast, and you want to take your time.

“Fuck this,” Mando shouts, his blaster coming up and shooting the man in the heart. Your grip slackens, and you drop to your knees. Struggling for breath, one hand on your chest and the other on your knee, you feel like you’re going to pass out. Mando’s drops to your side, a big, gloved hand resting on your back. Your body shudders at the touch and you pull away from him. Determined to put some space between you two, you straighten out, and take a couple steps back.

“What the hell happened there?” He tries not to startle you; his voice comes out a rough whisper.

Feeling your breathing evening out, your palms come out, trembling. You stare down at them, then to the corpse lying near Mando’s feet, desperately trying to understand why you couldn’t stop, why you couldn’t control your anger. The words aren’t forming, you can’t bring yourself to understand how it happened.

“I-I don’t know.” How could this happen? How could you let this happen?

A distorted sigh comes through the helmet. “Where did you learn how to do that?”

“I didn’t,” Your voice comes out as gentle as you can, given the circumstances. “I’ve just always had it.”

Mando takes a step closer to you and halts; he’s asking for permission to get closer. You give him a barely noticeable nod and within seconds he’s towering over you. His hands twitch at his sides, and you wonder if he’s going to touch you, but he doesn’t, and you start to believe that maybe a jail cell is exactly where you should be.

#the mandalorian #din djarin #Din Djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #star wars #the mandalorian x you #Din Djarin x you #mando x reader #mando x you #angst #tw: graphic depictions of violence #tw: grief #reader insert #the mandalorian fanfiction #we are one when together #fics

106 notes · View notes

empyreanwritings · 3 years

Text

Forgotten

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Natasha Romanoff

Word Count: 793

Warnings: Heavy angst, memory loss. There is no happy ending. Please read at your own risk.

Summary: The universe finds humor in torturing Wanda once more.

A/N: Is this me posting twice in one week? Yes, yes it is. This is for @gen-tlehoe for being the third person to win my 3k giveaway! If your heart breaks because of this fic, you can go yell at them for requesting it bc I'm innocent I swear!

Wanda knew three things were constant in her life: loss, loneliness, and guilt. She met loss when she was young. Losing her parents hardened her heart worse than she expected, and she thought she'd never recover when Pietro died. It was all too much, too fast. It didn't matter how many years apart the tragedies were.

The loneliness used to creep in at night. When she lied awake in a room that didn't truly feel like her own, listening to the chatter of those still awake in the compound, she felt it the worst. No one ever said anything out loud about how she didn't belong. They didn't have to. She could see it on her fellow coworkers' faces when she joined training or events. They blamed her for Ultron, and they blamed her for Lagos. They saw her as nothing more than destruction and chaos. Heartbreak and terror.

Steve assured her the guilt would stop eating her alive eventually. The wounds would heal, and the world would forget. But every new disaster brought new scars. Scabs she thought were healed would be ripped open, reminding her of the pain she could never forget. She bled guilt more often than she wanted to, and it never felt easier. She wished she had Steve's hope of a better future, but it never felt realistic.

All of these bitter feelings flood back into Wanda's mind as she watched Nat through the glass of the medbay window.

Things had been okay the last few years. She went to therapy, learned how to channel everything she felt into something productive. She learned how to play guitar - and was actually good! In time, she even let herself fall in love after one too many late night sparring sessions with Nat. It took her time to realize it was okay for her to be in love and be happy. She was allowed to move on.

But, of course, the universe had a sick way of playing with Wanda. It allowed her to get comfortable with her newfound happiness - allowed her to make new memories and traditions with people she'd grown to love. It allowed her to be content. She thought nothing could tear her back down to that dark place again. Not after seven years of bliss. She was wrong, though.

The mission was supposed to be easy. A simple recon of whatever information was left behind at a Facility base. Fury felt confident enough Nat and Wanda could handle it on their own since it wasn't Hydra. Just a small faction known for doing mutant experiments that Fury wanted to get a handle on. It wasn't supposed to take longer than a day; Wanda and Nat would be home in time for their anniversary.

It was no surprise that someone's information was wrong. The base was crawling with Facility agents, and they were ready before either of them set foot on the property. Wanda and Nat were a great team. They held off the agents long enough to get to safety but not without a few hiccups.

Bullets rained down on the two of them. Wanda knocked Nat away from the fire using her powers before turning them on the two assailants. Everything had been fine; Nat was out of harm's way, and they were able to go home. Sure, they didn't get the information they came for, but Fury would live. The Avengers could always return together if they wanted it so bad.

It wasn't until Nat started acting differently - sleeping in her own room, dodging kisses and giving strange looks when Wanda's touch lingered too long - that she realized she did more than knock Nat out of the way.

Steve laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Wanda-"

"Just tell me, Steve," she quickly cut him off with a mumble. "There's no way to bring those memories back, is there?"

"No."

Those big blue eyes of his looked so sad, and she felt sick. Wanda knew how annoyingly optimistic he tried to be. He always tried to see the light at the end of a tunnel, even if someone blew up the entrance. What hurt the most was knowing he didn't see anything this time. He knew there was nothing to be done besides break Wanda's heart, and she had to live with it.

She had to live with the fact that the last seven years no longer existed in her lover's mind. And it was her fault. She couldn't blame anyone but herself this time.

Tears burned in her eyes, and bile rose in her throat. Steve tried to speak words of comfort, but they sounded muffled in her ears. The universe loved to play games with people, but somehow, Wanda was always the punchline.

#wandanat #wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff #wandanat one shot #wandanat fanfiction #wandanat imagine #wandanat angst #scarletwidow #marvel one shot #marvel fanfiction #marvel fic

114 notes · View notes

bosspigeon · 3 years

Text

hurts like hope

Pairing: M!Detective/Mason Word Count: 3100 Summary: Detective Juniper Fenn tries to figure out just what the limit on his incorrigible hope is, and when he’ll finally be able to stomp it out.

Hello I Am Here With More Self-Indulgent Character Study Nonsense. For $8000 a month, I Will Stop.

CW for vague descriptions/references to sex

Nothing has ever hurt Juni like hope has.

He wouldn’t call himself an optimist by any means. He’d probably settle on “optimistic pessimist” if pressed, which means always expecting the worst, because at least then he’s either right or pleasantly surprised.

But in spite of that philosophy, there’s a stupid, naive part of him that won’t die, no matter how much it’s beaten down—his dumb, desperate hope.

He hoped doing the best he could in school, never getting into trouble, never arguing with Mum or making her feel guilty for leaving him behind would show her he was good enough to acknowledge in more than impersonal letters and distracted phone calls on major occasions.

He was always disappointed.

He hoped working a job he didn’t care about, that didn’t suit someone as soft-hearted and anxious as he was, would make him feel closer to the memory of his father, would make him feel like he was doing something good enough to make people care about him like they did Dad.

Disappointed again.

He hoped letting Bobby walk all over him, use him, and placate him with saccharine-sweet murmurs of “Oh, angel, you’re so good to me” would make him see Juni as more than just a convenience, a doormat and a stepping stone to bigger, better things that would always matter more than Juni’s ever mattered to anyone.

The repetition got exhausting, after a while.

When he meets Mason, he thinks he’s given up on hoping. At that point, he just wants something for himself. He wants to be selfish. He wants to be wanted, even if it’s just for a tumble or two. Even if it’s just because his stupid, special blood suddenly means he’s catnip for supernaturals. Even if it doesn’t mean anything.

I’m doing this for me, he tells himself when Mason’s touching him for the first time, when strong, calloused hands are dancing up his sides, and he tries to shrink away, suck in his gut, and Mason squeezes with a pleased little growl that makes Juni whimper. I’m doing something for me, for once in my fucking life.

The lights are off. They crashed through the door without turning anything on, but Juni knows Mason can see him just fine anyway, and he wants to squirm, wants to hide, but Mason distracts him with a very thorough kiss, his touches gentle until Juni responds positively, his sharp eyes picking him apart, like figuring out what the detective likes is the only assignment that’s ever mattered.

And then Mason calls him stunning, and he’s done for.

He’s sure that’ll be it. One and done, and Mason will forget all about the messy, bumbling detective now that he’s whet his appetite. It hurts to think about, it hurts to hope, so he doesn’t.

(That’s a lie. He does. He always does, because he’s stupid.)

He tries to bury the hope like he’s done before, but it’s no use. Every time Mason sits as close to him as possible without physically touching him, every time he gives him one of those long, smoky looks, every time he puts out a cigarette when Juni asks or just doesn’t light one at all, every time he touches Juni with a gentleness that feels almost reverent, like Juni is something worth treating carefully, it fights back harder, hopes louder. In just a few months, the vampire’s got Detective Juniper Fenn’s fragile little heart on a string, and he doesn’t seem to know it.

If he did, would he even care?

Juni gets his answer before long.

He’s only seen me naked.

He told himself he wouldn’t hope. He wasn’t hoping. He knows better. He should know better.

But he hoped, and it hurt, and it’s exactly what he deserves, isn’t it? Once bitten, twice shy, and all that, but Juni’s been bitten so many times, and he never shies enough for it to matter. He walks right on into the hurt with open arms, like a moth to a flame, to a fucking bug zapper, and just licks his wounds until the next flame comes along to reduce him to ash all over again.

When will he learn?

If nothing else, he’s resilient. It’s one of the few things he’s got going for him. He knows how to roll with the punches and pretend everything’s fine, because he’s been doing it since he was old enough to know crying for his Mum wouldn’t do anything but give him a headache. So he runs out of Haley’s in tears—she’s known him since school, so she knows he’s a crybaby and won’t tell a soul—but at least he knows how to calm himself down before he walks into the station. He plasters on a smile, cracks a few jokes, and everything’s fine and dandy.

And then Juni’s fucking ceiling explodes and his room floods, because nothing can go right in his life. At least it wasn’t some supernatural attack this time, he supposes. Small mercies.

Of course, it’s got to be Mason who greets him, when he’s soaked to the skin and covered in plaster, and still recovering from seeing Mr. Yu naked.

And Mason apologizes.

The hope he thought had finally, finally died the slow, painful death it deserved springs back to life in his chest like one of those inflatable clown punching bags. He wants to be annoyed, because an apology doesn’t mean a whole hell of a lot if you don’t even know why you’re apologizing, and it feels more like Mason’s blaming Juni for having feelings (stupid, stupid feelings) rather than actually taking accountability for causing hurt, but he’s an idiot, so of course he reaches out, takes Mason’s hand, and asks the dumbest question he’s asked in his life. And he still has to Google literally every odd sound his car makes, because the poor thing is held together with duct tape and dreams at this point.

“What does this mean for us?”

And he’s blown off again, and when the hope shrivels up this time, he wants to grind it into the dirt with his heel, salt the earth so nothing grows there again, because really, when is he going to fucking learn? He wonders how Mum just turns off her feelings, and if that sort of thing can be taught. He wonders if she’d make the time to teach him, now that she’s “trying.”

He wonders if Dad was as much of a raw nerve of a person as he is, but it’s not as if he can ask anyone about it.

"You two… One of you is going to have to make the big leap, and he has no idea how."

Felix has never been shy about needling Juni about his ridiculous and obvious whatever-it-is with Mason (calling it a crush seems as childish as it is reductive, since he doubts it can be called a crush anymore once you’ve, uh, had sex) but this time it comes out... Softer. Gentler. Definitely annoyed, groaned out with a hearty eye roll, as if the two of them are personally responsible for all of Felix’s woes, but still... kind. Kinder than he expected, and that is enough to throw him off for Felix to leave him behind before he can even shake him and ask him what the hell that’s supposed to even mean.

No idea how?

Mason’s confusion when he apologized strikes a new chord, suddenly. Mason doesn’t know how he fucked up, just that he did. In a normal circumstance, with a normal guy, Juni would assume he was just being a dick. Of course he didn’t do anything he saw as wrong, he’d just be apologizing to get back into Juni’s good graces—and also his pants. It was certainly Bobby’s MO.

But these aren’t normal circumstances, are they? And Mason’s not a normal guy.

Juni doesn’t want to think about what he saw in the mirror at the carnival, but if he were any good at not thinking about things that upset him, he wouldn’t be in this mess. He squeezes his eyes closed and shakes his head, trying to clear it of the splashes of red, of the screaming, and he swallows until he can calm himself down.

At least he can distract himself with drumming up signatures for the blood drive. He thinks he can. But Mason is there, and he’s distracting, aloof and unamused and annoyingly gorgeous, and Juniper Fenn never professed to be a terribly strong man. There’s a gut-deep urge that draws him to the vampire, an itch under Juni’s skin to get close, poke at that sneering facade and see the softer bits underneath.

Juni’s seen so many of those softer bits, far more than he thought he could ever get when he tumbled into bed with Mason for the first time. He honestly expected to be ignored entirely once he gave him what he was after in the first place, but instead he was given little fragments of something more, and sentimental idiot he is, he’s been hoarding them and trying to cobble together something from the scraps he’s been given. So he drifts closer, pulled helplessly into Mason’s orbit, and he doesn’t even know what to say, so he just laughs awkwardly and needles Mason about not helping.

Which… works, somehow?

It doesn’t exactly go where he’s expecting it to go, conversation-wise, and he’s left reeling with Mason’s stark, shameless honesty. There’s something that warms him, knowing that the vampire seems to, if nothing else, respect him, in his own way? That anyone, much less someone as difficult to impress as Mason, thinks he’s good enough? Not just good enough, but ‘better than pretty much anyone’ he knows? Juni’s known Mason long enough at this point to understand some things about him, and one of the most obvious is how loyal he is. Loyalty is everything to Mason, and he’s fiercely protective of those that have earned it.

Juni’s fingers are slack enough with surprise that Mason can take the board from him and wander off to frighten the general populace into signing up for the blood drive, and Juni is left with his heart fluttering in a very damning way.

Don’t be an idiot, he tells himself fiercely, shaking his head as if that will rid himself of the pointlessly painful affliction he’s tried for years to shrug off. Just because he likes you as a person doesn’t mean he wants anything else with you.

Whatever weirdness still lingers between the two of them, Unit Bravo’s company makes what would have been a really boring, lonely task actually pretty fun, between Felix dancing around and chatting happily at any citizen of Wayhaven drawn into his orbit, Adam and Nate working together like a well-oiled machine to collect and transfer signatures, and Mason looking genuinely confused whenever someone is brave enough to weather his thunderous expression for the chance to chat with him, however briefly.

It’s nice to be with them all, and their comfortable rapport and playful banter makes it surprisingly easy for Juni to brush his confusing feelings aside and just be, for a while. At least until the banter halts sharply, and every eye is looking over his shoulder. “Hello, angel.”

Juni closes his eyes and stiffens, jaw clenching as a shudder ripples through him. No, no, no, not him. Not today.

Juni's relationship with Bobby was never terribly comfortable, but he’s always been something of a boiling frog cautionary tale. Bobby is not the sort of person who ever turns off the persona. He was rarely ever just Bobby, and Juni knows that hasn't really changed. While they dated, even when they were dumb kids, Juni was always stuck in the shadow cast by someone so desperate to stand in a spotlight they stepped on everyone they claimed to love in order to feel even a shred of that artificial warmth. Juni supposes he wasn’t much different, only the artificial warmth he craved came from Bobby.

He has no idea why Bobby is still so hung up on him. Juni always got the feeling he was never more than the road of least resistance to Bobby. He was easy. Low-maintenance. Didn’t kick up a fuss over being talked over and ignored, because not only was he used to that sort of thing, he was just so grateful to be anyone’s anything, he’d let the man get away with murder just to keep that illusion of happiness.

“What the hell did you just call him?” Mason snarls, stalking to Juni’s side. Juni’s trying to keep calm, trying not to turn into a complete disaster of a person under the sudden stress, but his fluttering awareness of the vampire is crashing into his shrieking fear of confrontation and turning into a messy cocktail that he knows all four vampires can sense. Vaguely, and a little frantically, he wonders if he just smells like anxiety all the time, if anxiety has a smell. It probably does.

“I… always call him that.”

He does, always has, and back when Juni was blindly obsessed with everything he pretended Bobby was, he convinced himself it was cute. Looking back, it always felt sleazy and fake, but Juni’s a master of nothing more than he’s a master of ignoring his own discomfort.

“Not anymore you don’t.” Mason takes another step forward, and for a moment Juni’s terrified he’s going to start a goddamned brawl in the middle of the square. There’s a mean little part of him that wouldn’t completely hate that, but thankfully that’s outweighed by the sensible part that knows he’d be the one stuck dealing with the aftermath. He’s reaching out to try and stop Mason from escalating things further when Adam, thankfully, intercedes.

And then Mason returns to Juni’s side, and a strong arm slips around his waist and hauls him close. His heartbeat goes crazy, and he can only be grateful that none of Unit Bravo are telepathic, because he’s sure his brain is making godawful dial-up noises. It’s a struggle to maintain politeness, but he does his best. Bobby, at least, seems to realize now is not a good time to try and pick at Juni’s defenses, with four government agents backing him up, one of whom has a possessive arm looped pointedly around him.

"Just because he's being polite, doesn't mean he wants you here.” Well, Mason’s greatest skill is reading people, and he’s probably figured out that Juni’s go-to defense mechanism is to pretend everything is fine and dandy and smile, smile, smile no matter what. Still, his protectiveness (if that’s what it is?) makes Juni’s stomach squirm. Mason’s almost baring his teeth at Bobby, who hopefully will not notice that his canines are a bit sharper than a normal human’s should be. “So piss off.”

Thankfully, Bobby is the sort of person who doesn’t like to start fights he’s not sure he can win, so he leaves with, of course, a sleazy parting shot that makes Juni shudder. He really, really hopes Bobby doesn’t find him when he’s alone. He’s got enough mental stress on his plate at the moment, thank you very much, Bobert.

He tries not to make a sad little noise when Adam ushers them back to work, which means Mason pulls away from him, but he’s not sure how successful he is, given the long look he gets from those smoky grey eyes. He throws himself into the work of cleanup to avoid anymore uncomfortable conversations, because he thinks he’s exceeded his quota for the day.

Of course, he thinks that, but he never knows when to quit, and he winds up sidling up to Mason again, fueled, once again, by hope.

He wants to smack himself with a rolled-up newspaper.

What’s the definition of madness, again? Doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result? He wonders if Mum still has his old therapist on retainer. He bets she’d have a field day with whatever the hell he’s doing now. She’d probably be able to retire with the royalties from a paper picking apart his myriad neuroses and subtle self-destructive tendencies. Maybe he should ring her. Someone deserves to profit from his ridiculous inability to take a bloody hint, and it’s certainly not going to be him.

But, God, Mason’s hands are on him, tugging him in, and he’s helpless under that stormy stare, he had not a chance in hell to resist, not when Mason is being soft, and open, and what the hell does any of this mean?

Juni sometimes wishes he’d resisted when Mason first started teasing him, turned him down, tried to keep things professional and friendly rather than stumbling all over himself at the first sign of interest. He wouldn’t mind at all if Mason just wanted to be friends, because at least then he could still be close, still bask in the steadfast loyalty and companionship of a man who would take a bullet for any one of his team—his family—and Juni could keep his heart intact. But he knows without a doubt he never stood a chance. So he sinks into the attention, leaning into it like a flower towards the sun, bares his soft throat and softer heart and hopes against hope he won’t be torn open and left to bleed.

It’s never gone well for him before, but optimistic pessimism and all that. He’ll either get exactly what he expects and deal with the painful consequences like he always has, plastering on a smile until he can go cry alone and listen to sad music to remember how to face the world again, or the battered, bruised hope that won’t fucking die will finally, finally be rewarded.

Mason’s smile when Juni pitifully asks “That’s it?” leaves him breathless and dizzy in a way just a smile has no right to, but it’s so warm, so open and sweet, it blindsides Juni when he’s already weak. He’s completely helpless. Absolutely done for. Nate’s disapproval is hardly a blip on the embarrassment radar, because Juni is floating.

And, as if Mason isn’t satisfied with just completely rendering him a puddle, he hops off the table with a quick peck on the cheek and saunters off to clean up, leaving Juni’s scrambled thoughts to chase themselves around in a circle. It was just a chaste little kiss. It shouldn’t even mean anything.

Of course, to Juni, it means everything.

For once, just once, without mentally whacking himself with a broom, Juni tentatively allows himself to hope.

#the wayhaven chronicles #specialist agent mason #specialist agent m #twc fanfic #twc detective #pidge writes #oc: juniper fenn #HERE IT GOES HERE IT GOES AGAIN #this one technically comes before the other one ive posted #i just posted that one first bc of the way things appear on tumblr #so you hit this one first and then that one #that makes sense right?#hhhhhh anyway here's some more character study nonsense for juni #bc thats where im at i guess #its all v long and disjointed but thats what my brain is doing so uh #¯\_ (ツ)_/¯

17 notes · View notes

ecoamerica · 1 month

Text

youtube

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

14K notes · View notes

harrysweasleys · 4 years

Text

seekers keepers // h.p

Summary: Hi lovely! I'm not sure if request are still open but would you write a Harry Potter x reader where the reader is a Weasley and is Fred and George Triplet? reader has a crush on harry so they tease her about it (with him being younger and that) but she doesn't know that harry also has a crush on her and is just a cute oblivious mutual pining until they realize their feelings for each other? i really liked this idea in my head and i hope you liked it too, send you my love and best wishes!

Warnings: language? idk

Word Count: 3.6k

A/N: requests are still closed but will eventually reopen! (sooner rather than later, don’t worry!) enjoy. xoxo

———————————

Being a triplet was hard. So very hard.

You loved your dear brothers, they were quiet a blast to be around, but there was just one tiny problem. People quite often never saw you as you. They saw you as Fred, George and Y/N. Your name always came with theirs, just like you did. You’d spent most of your life surrounded by these two boys — so much so that every friend they had was a friend of yours.

Not that you minded, especially when that friend was Lee Jordan, who was quite possibly the most optimistic, bubbly person you had ever met and easily became your best friend as well. No, that you didn’t mind. But what you did mind was that when your younger brother Ron befriended Harry Potter, Fred and George decided to pal him up as well.

Harry was lovely. Awkward, intelligent, and quick on his feet. Always had been, even as a young wizard with little to no knowledge of the magical world.

You had met him in your third year, when he was in his first. Ron had talked about him non-stop since then, really, so when Harry himself reached his third year, Fred and George decided the three of you would take him under your wing and pass on the legacy of the Marauders Map to the adventurous dark haired boy.

And in that moment, when Harry thanked you with everything he had, you knew you were done for. What was it that made you fall for him, you can’t pinpoint. But as the years progressed, Harry just got more and more intriguing. You had nearly lost your marbles completely when he was chosen for the Triwizard Tournament. When he had given your brothers his winnings, your heart completely forgot all the worry it had experienced in the past year and became filled with adoration.

But in your final year, when Harry had founded Dumbledore’s Army to retaliate against Umbridge’s evil reign, you knew in that moment that there was no chance you’d ever find someone as kindhearted as him. And if it was even possible, you feel for that boy even more.

The only thing holding you back from confessing to him was the fact that you were a triplet. Would Harry see you as just another Weasley? Would he see you as just Fred and George’s triplet? Was that all you were? He was the Chosen One, the boy who lived, quite possibly one of the most famous young wizards of all time. How could you be good enough for that?

Fred and George, naturally, knew about your crush from the get-go. Just like you knew about all of their crushes from the moment they bloomed as well. As a triplet, being so connected to your siblings creates this mental and emotional bond — you can easily tell how the others are feeling just by being near them.

They took every chance they could get to tease you about it. Like right now, for example, as the three of you walked down to the Quidditch pitch on a cloudy spring afternoon.

“Oi, there’s your man,” George nudged your shoulder, an annoyingly teasing grin plastered on his face as the three of you entered the Gryffindor tent, “You gonna go tell him you love him and all?”

“Shut your trap, George,” you snapped, glaring him down as you walked to your cubby, “Or should I tell a certain someone about your feelings? No? Don’t want that? Then shut it.”

George raised his hands in surrender, narrowing his eyes at your comment, “Fine, I’ll stop.”

Fred reached your other side, opening his own cubby and grabbing his robes, “Oi, Harry!” he called out, eyebrows raised and a smirk on his face, “C’mere.”

Your heart sunk as you glared at Fred, who was glaring right back at you with an unreadable expression. He was obviously doing this to rile you up, and you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t working.

“What is it?” Harry jogged over, already donned in his Quidditch gear.

Fred looked between you and Harry, placing his hand on your shoulder and giving you a sarcastic smile, “Lovely sis here wanted to tell you something.”

You glared daggers at Fred. If looks could kill, you’d happily be watching him lying motionless on the floor right about now.

“What’s up, Y/N?” Harry asked, clearly nervous. You figured it was just due to the upcoming match. After all, it was for the Quidditch Cup. And it was against Slytherin.

“Uh—” you completely blanked as you turned your attention to Harry, “Just wanted to say good luck. The usual.”

Harry grinned, but it didn’t meet his eyes, “Right, thanks. You too.” He continued to look at you, nodding awkwardly as silence filled the tent.

You had never wished to be further away from the tent than in that moment. You could hear Fred and George stifling laughs in the background. Oh, how badly you wanted to turn around and jinx them.

“Uh, anyways,” you broke the silence, clearing your throat, “See you on the pitch.” Harry bid you a good game once more and took off in the opposite direction. You spun on your heel, turning to face your brothers with pure frustration.

“You two are right gits, y’know?” you glared, storming over with your hands placed on your hips.

“C’mon, we reckon you two just need a bit of a push,” George smirked, motioning a slight push with his hands, doing a terrible job at trying to pretend he was no longer laughing.

You shook your head, turning to your cubby and grabbing your robes, “Don’t blame me if I give you a slight push off a cliff, dear brother.”

They continued laughing as you walked into the changing booth, switching your comfortable, warm clothing for your Quidditch robes. You loved them, you really did, but they barely did the proper job of keeping you warm.

After changing and neatly folding your clothing, you exited the booth and stuffed your clothing in your cubby. You could hear the loud audience starting to fill the Quidditch stands, the heavy footsteps above echoing throughout the tent.

“Big game,” George leaned in beside you, a grin on his face, “Last chance to win the cup.”

“I know,” you grinned, forgetting your previous anger towards him and focusing on the game ahead, “We bloody well better win.”

“Why wouldn’t we?” Fred appeared on your other side, also grinning like an idiot, “We’ve got your boyfriend on the team.”

Your eyes shot in his direction, throwing your hand over his mouth to prevent him from saying anything else. Luckily, you noticed, Harry was too busy talking to Angelina to notice the commotion.

“Oi, what did I say about pushing you off a cliff?” you spoke through gritted teeth, Fred’s wiggling eyebrows only adding fuel to the fire bubbling in your belly. You couldn’t stand them sometimes.

“Freddie, let her be,” George snickered, trying his best to be the better brother in the current situation, “Sometimes, you can’t help falling in love.”

“I’m fed up with you two,” you groaned, slapping a hand to your forehead and glaring back and forth between the two of them, “Not a word, you hear? I’ve had enough.”

They both nodded understandingly, “Fine, we’re sorry.”

You didn’t believe them, but you dropped the subject and focused on the sound of the cheering audience above you, Madam Hooch calling for the teams to join her on the field.

You followed Angelina out of the tent, the deafening cheers being amplified now that you were out in the open. Much to your pleasure, the clouds seemed to have vanished and the bright sunshine was beaming down on the pitch.

Angelina and the Slytherin Captain shook hands, and the match begun.

You flew up to your goalposts, taking your position as Keeper and letting your eyes rapidly scan the field in order to prevent Slytherin from getting on up on you.

Nearly half an hour into the game, Gryffindor was up by seventy points. It was thrilling, but you were beginning to get anxious. Harry was zooming around rapidly, stopping ever so often so scope out and search for the flicker of gold. But it didn’t appear as if he had seen it just yet.

You had found yourself struggling to focus, despite the pressure and weight that this particular match held. You could see Harry zooming by your goalposts out of the corner of your eye, smiling at your whenever you made eye contact. It was pleasantly frustrating, but you knew that the team would have your head on a stake if you didn’t stop Slytherin from scoring.

“Keep your eye on the Quaffle,” Fred’s voice nearly scared you off of your broom, zooming by you to knock the Bludger in the opposite direction.

You scowled, “And you keep yours on the Bludger, you bloody wanker!”

He chuckled as he flew off, leaving you be to continue your duty. Quidditch games were usually nerve wracking, but cup games were a whole new level.

You had won the cup back in your fifth year — one of the highlights of your time at Hogwarts — and you wanted nothing more than to complete your time here with another victory.

“Gryffindor scores!”

The crowd cheered, causing you to grin widely, shooting a thumbs up to Alicia Spinnet who was boasting proudly about her goal. You watched as Harry went over to congratulate her, wishing that you could fly over and be a part of the fun as well, but you sat by your goalposts and celebrated by yourself.

The game started up again, your team up in a decent lead, until you noticed Harry zoom down towards the ground in a determined dive, Malfoy following his move to try and catch the Snitch before him.

You had been so distracted by the neck to neck fight that you nearly let in a goal, luckily stopping it a second before it went in. You tossed the Quaffle to Angelina —

“Harry has caught the Snitch! Gryffindor wins the Quidditch Cup!”

If the audience was loud before, it was nothing to how loud it became after the announcement. Your heart did a gleeful summersault and you left your post, rushing to join your team on the pitch grounds to celebrate.

Harry was beaming proudly, holding the Snitch high in the air. You couldn’t help the smile that rose to your lips as well as you watched him in his element, the pride radiating off of him and becoming contagious.

You felt someone nudge you from behind, causing you fall into Harry’s body with a slight ‘oomph.’

“Blimey, sorry, Harry,” you mumbled, pulling yourself off of him and hiding your face, knowing damn well it was either Fred or George who had knocked you over.

He grinned, clearly unbothered by your fall, “It’s no problem, Y/N. Congrats on the win!”

Your previous embarrassment faded quickly, “Yeah, same to you.”

Before you could register his movements, he pulled you into a bone crushing hug. All the coldness you had felt out and about in the chilly spring air completely vanished, warmth surrounded your body. Whether it was from your flushed state or his body, you couldn’t tell. But it was comfortable and you didn’t want him to pull away.

“Where’s our hug, mate?” Fred smirked, opening his arms wide and facing Harry, who pulled away from you hastily and flushed a light pink.

“He’s only jokin’,”George knocked Fred’s arms down, “How are we going to celebrate?”

You pursed your lips, narrowing your eyes and trying to think of something, “We could just do a small party. The common room couch is calling my name.”

Harry nodded appreciatively, “I’m not in the mood for anything too big, guys. Common room party sounds brilliant to me.”

“Lame,” George scoffed, “But if it’s what our star wants, it’s what our star will get.”

Harry chuckled awkwardly at George calling him a ‘star.’ It took everything in you not to smack your brother over the head.

Sometimes, they knew just how to push every last button.

——

The Gryffindor common room found itself incredibly packed that evening. People were scattered across the couches and the empty corners, practically shouting to their friends over the blasting noise coming from all directions.

Mellow music was playing, curtesy of Lee who had stolen the record from McGonagall’s office that afternoon. Groups of friends laughed and cheered as more and more members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team piled in, each looking as pleased about the win as the rest of the House.

“Oi, Y/N, get your arse over here,” Lee shouted at you from the corner of the room. You groaned, walking over and raising an eyebrow. You loved Lee, but you were currently searching the room for any signs of Harry.

“Yeah?” you asked, not focusing on him.

Lee seemed to notice your distracted state, “Am I not interesting enough for you?” There was no hint of offence in his voice — he seemed intrigued by what you were focused on.

“Huh?” you turned your attention back to him, blinking rapidly to clear your mind, “No, sorry, I’m paying attention.”

He cocked his eyebrow, “Sure. You’re looking for Harry, aren’t you?”

Your eyes shot open and you were nearly certain your face was now completely drained of colour, “Bloody hell, how do you know about that?”

“Fred and George, of course,” he shrugged as if it was no big deal, “Those lads tell me everything.”

“Oh, I am going to jinx them into next year,” you grit your teeth, anger overpowering the embarrassment you were feeling, “They had no right—,”

“Hey, if it makes you feel any better,” Lee cut you off with a chuckle, “They only told me so I could help set you up with him.”

You gaped at him, suddenly rendered speechless, “They — you — what?”

He placed his hand on your shoulder before pointing to where Harry was standing in the corner talking to Ron, “They wanted to set you two up.”

You turned away from Harry and faced Lee with wide eyes. You couldn’t believe that after all their teasing about your crush on Harry and the fact that he was both famous and younger than you, they still tried to set you up with him. And they had even gotten Lee involved. You weren’t sure if you were flattered or pissed off.

“Well, their plan hasn’t worked, has it?” you muttered quietly, “Pretty sure Harry just sees me as Y/N Weasley. His best friend’s older sister.”

Lee shook his head, “Do you not see the way he looks at you when you’re not looking?”

You furrowed your eyebrows, turning your head back in Harry’s direction. You immediately locked eyes before he turned away quickly, cheeks becoming tinted light pink.

“Point proven,” Lee smirked, crossing his arms and leaning up against the wall behind him, “Oh, here they come.”

You were about to ask who he was talking about, but your question was answered when Fred and George appeared at your side, holding a box of products that they were bound to test out on unsuspecting students.

You grinned to yourself, already excited to see if the products would go as planned. The three of you wanted to open a joke shop after graduating. However, you felt yourself too occupied by Harry’s presence to want to be involved with their shenanigans tonight.

“So, dearest sister,” Fred winked at you, “Charming young Harry is sitting there waiting for you, why don’t you go join him?” He nudged you in the ribs, causing you to glare at him.

“Sod off, would you?” you groaned, nudging him right back, a lot more forcefully. The last thing you wanted was Harry to overhear. Sure, it was loud in the common room and you could barely hear Fred who was right next to you, but maybe he’d hear. You could never be too safe.

“Y/N,” George placed his hands on both your shoulders, turning you to face him, “Go speak to him. We’ve been watching you pine for the lad nearly two years now. It won’t do you any good to sit back and let him be. Just go chat with him, yeah?”

You thought over his words, hating the fact that he was right. You wanted to leave Hogwarts with no regrets, ready to live your life to the complete fullest. You wouldn’t be able to do that if you regretted never speaking to Harry when given the chance.

On one hand, if Harry felt the same, you’d get to spend your last month here with him. On the other hand, if he didn’t feel the same, you’d only have a month left before you’d only get to see him on the rare occasion.

The pro’s outweighed the con’s, really.

“Fine,” you gave in, ignoring how the two boys grinned knowingly, shooting each other a thumbs up. You glanced back in the direction that Harry had been previously standing, only to notice that Ron and Hermione were the only ones there.

You walked over, collecting your nerves, and tapped your other brother on the shoulder, “Ron, where’d Harry go?”

Ron shot you a quizzical look before pointing right behind you, “He’s right there.”

You spun around on the spot, heart caught in your throat as you stared into Harry’s eyes. He was awkwardly smiling at you, fidgeting his feet and looking between you and Ron.

“Hey, Y/N,” Harry nodded, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. You thought he looked nervous, but you couldn’t figure out why he would be. If anything, you should be the one nervously looking down at your feet, not him.

The only reason you weren’t feeling overwhelmed was because of what Lee has just told you. Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance Harry was attracted to you as well.

“Hiya, Harry,” you grinned, pushing your hopeful thoughts out of your mind, “Having a good time?”

You flushed at your embarrassing question, but he seemed to slip right past it, “Yeah, I am. I hope you are too.”

“Oh, yeah, it’s great,” you nodded, pursing your lips. The tension was unbearable. You could practically feel Ron and Hermione cringing behind you, and if you weren’t staring dead on at Harry, you’d probably be cringing too.

“Do you uh, want to go somewhere more quiet?” Harry asked, his eyes darting back and forth between your eyes and his own feet.

Without thinking, you quickly replied, “Yes.”

He seemed taken aback by your speedy reply, but he brushed it off and nodded his head up the stairs, starting to walk up. You followed suit, still ignoring the grins that Lee and your triplet brothers were shooting your way.

Once you two reached the opening at the top of the stairs, where it was still loud but reasonably easier to hear properly, he took a seat and motioned for you to do the same.

Under the light of the window, Harry’s eyes had never looked so blue and it was taking your breath away.

You sat next to him, eyes practically glued to him, and smiled nervously, “So...” you trailed off, unsure of what to say.

“I actually want to talk to you about something,” he sighed, looking at you so intently you swore he could probably see into your soul, “I uh, have heard that you may or may not take a fancy to me.”

You had never wished to be dead more than when he said those words. Had your two idiot brothers spilled to Harry how you felt about him? Had they told Ron — who couldn’t keep a secret for life of him — that you had a crush on his best friend? You didn’t think you were that obvious. How could he know?

You ducked your face, hiding the growing blush, and cursed everyone you knew. The pounding in your chest picked up exponentially, uneasiness settling through your whole body.

“Uh — I’m sorry,” you said the only thing you could think of, wanting to smack yourself over the forehead.

Harry’s eyes widened, “No, don’t be sorry. I only brought it up because I—,” he stopped to take a deep breath, closing his eyes, “I actually fancy you too.”

Your heart suddenly stopped completely. Was Lee right? Had Harry actually felt this way about you the whole time?

“You — you do?” you asked, clearly starstuck. You didn’t know what to say. What did people usually say when their crush told them they liked them too?

“Yeah,” he chuckled nervously, running his hand through his hair and shaking it slightly, “I couldn’t find the right time to tell you and I thought I might as well just do it.”

It was as if your entire body had gone numb. It made no sense, but at the same time, you didn’t want to overthink it. He liked you back, and that was the best news you could have received. Despite winning the Quidditch cup, this here was the best feeling.

“I’m glad you did,” you grinned, your voice coming off shaky as the nerves continued rambling through your body, “I probably wouldn’t have said anything, to be honest.”

He chuckled, “So, uh, do you want to go to Hogsmeade together next weekend?”

You nodded before you could even properly process his words, “I’d love to.”

If it was any quieter, you could have sworn you heard George’s forced whisper from down the stairs saying, “We’re the best matchmakers.”

Grinning like an idiot, you rested your head against the wall and continued to gaze adoringly at Harry, who you were now going on a date with next weekend.

There could be no better feeling.

#harry potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter imagines #harry potter one shot #harry potter one shots #harry potter x reader #harry potter reader insert #harry potter fic #harry potter fics #harry potter fanfic

221 notes · View notes

tessxblxckthorn · 3 years

Text

you’re more to me

@juulies and again: happy holidays love!! (2/2)

a short juke soulmate au cause meg wrote that she likes the trope so i thought why not... english isn’t my first language and I haven’t written in quite some time so please have mercy and enjoy!

It took her an entire day to realise. Julie could see colors. Actual, vibrant colors. Not the dull, grey-ish colors she had seen her entire life but the bright red of the painted dahlias on her bedroom walls, the vivid blue of the Los Angeles sky, the deep violet of the string that was still braided into her hair from yesterday's performance in the Orpheum.

It had all been so chaotic that Julie hadn't had a minute to breath and, well, realise that she had met her soulmate.

Her soulmate.

Of course she knew about soulmates and that, after finding yours and having direct skin contact with them, you could see every beautiful color that exists. But she also knew that many people never, ever found theirs. Sure, her parents had been soulmates, but they were lucky. Flynn's parents weren't soulmates, Carries definitely hadn't been.

While there were a lot of soulmate-couples, people just didn't want to get their hopes up just to never find theirs. So that's why, at the young age of 10, Flynn and Julie had stopped believing that they would eventually find their perfect match, simply because this wasn’t a perfect world.

And now, at age 16, Julie was laying in her bedroom on her bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering how on earth she could’ve missed meeting her soulmate. Because that was what had happened, right? She must have bumped into them at the show or while running out on the street when she thought the guys had died...or stopped existing or whatever...or when she went home with her dad and Carlos or-

There was a loud bang coming from her closed door followed by a groan and a curse.

“Come in!”, Julie called out, sitting up and pushing her messy hair out of her face.

“Damn it”, Alex groaned and closed the door behind him. “Still haven't adjusted completely to being alive again, thought I could just materialize through the door.”

Julie laughed softly. “Yeah, I heard that.”

“Pretty sure your dad thinks we’re absolute weirdos now, Reggie just said good-bye in the kitchen and then jumped up before realising he couldn't poof out.”

Jup, that sounded like Reggie.

“Anyway, the boys and I wanted to drive back to the Orpheum, you wanna come?”

“Weren't you at the Orpheum this morning?”, Julie asked confused, while starting to fold her costume from yesterday's performance.

“True, but...Lukethinkshemethissoulmatethere”, Alex muttered under his breath, looking at the, suddenly so interesting, blanket that was thrown over Julie's bed.

Said girl froze up. Had she heard correctly? “Uhm Luke- he- what?”

Alex sighed and pushed his blond hair back, a habit he did a lot when he was anxious. “Ok, so- I mean- Luke- He- he can see colors now, like the kind of colors you can only see after you met your soulmate? And he can see the colors since this morning so he thinks he met them while we were back at the Orpheum to meet with Willie.”

“Oh…”, Julie said, dropping her hands that were still folding into her lap. No, it was stupid. Of course she hadn't thought or hoped her soulmate would be Luke. He was dead. Well, now he was alive again, but that wasn't the point. The point was that Luke Patterson couldn't be her soulmate. Eventhough, for some dumb, idiotic reason, her heart apparently had wished he was.

“Yeah…”, Alex agreed, awkwardly fingering at the blanket. He wasn’t dumb, in fact, he was probably the most observant of the three boys and it wasn’t difficult to identify the way Luke looked at Julie. Not only at the performances but all the time.

“Uhm- I- Flynn’s coming over so…”, Julie trailed off. “We’re having a girls night.” More like a “freaking-out-about-who-could-be-Julie’s-soulmate”-night or a “crying-over-the-fact-that-Luke’s-not-her-soulmate”- night. She hadn’t decided yet, but judging by the lump in her throat it seemed that the latter was more possible.

“Oh ok. Yeah, sure.”

Julie nodded slowly.

“Okayyyyy”, Alex scratched his neck. “Then I'm going to go now. With the boys. To the Orpheum.” She nodded again.

By the time he had closed her bedroom door again, after softly smiling at her with his annoyingly nice “I-know-what’s-going-on-and-you-can-always-talk-to-me-but-I-don’t-want-to-push-you”-look, Julie was fighting the tears.

The last two hours, after she realized that she could see colors, she had spent thinking about every person that could or couldn't be her soulmate. It couldn't be anyone she actually knew, because she had had direct skin contact with all of them at some point before yesterday. All of them except Luke, Reggie and Alex. Not Alex, because he’s gay and terribly in love with this Willie she had yet to meet. Not Reggie, because he was like a brother to her and he still couldn't see colors.

And not Luke, because he had met his soulmate this morning. And not last night like she apparently had, simply because she hadn’t left the house since then.

So it had to be some stranger, right? And still, everytime she thought about her soulmate, she thought about Luke’s piercing hazel eyes, his perfect smile and his soft brown hair and-

“Oh my god”, Flynn shouted, slamming the door shut behind her. “You can’t just text me that you met your soulmate without any details!”

Julie flinched and instantly shushed her. “Flynn! No one else knows! Shut up!”

“Oh Julie, I’m not stupid. Ray and Carlos went grocery shopping and the boys just passed me, saying they want to go to the Orpheum or something? Whatever, I need the details!”, Julie's best friend threw her bag beside Julie’s desk and jumped onto her bed.

“Who is it?”

“I don’t know.”

Flynn laughed loudly and then looked back to Julie. She went quiet. “No”, she said. “No, no, cause I thought I just heard that you said you didn’t know who your soulmate is but I must have misunderstood.”

Julie sighed and layed back down next to Flynn. “You don't know? How can you not know? You met your soulmate, are able to see colors now and tell me you don't know who it was? How can you not know?”

“I don’t know.”

“Julie…”

“Seriously, Flynn. I don't know, okay? And it's horrible! I didn’t even realize I’m able to see colors now till this morning. I don’t remember suddenly being able to see colors after touching someone, okay? It was all so chaotic yesterday. The performance. The boys missing. Then I thought the boys were gone. Then they weren’t. Then they nearly died of those jolts in the garage. Then they were suddenly alive again. Then I had to explain to my dad why the hologram band from Sweden is in the garage. It was all messy and chaotic and I must have missed it.”

“Breathe, Julie.”

“I am breathing!”, Julie cried out, hiding her face in one of her pillows.

She felt Flynn soothingly patting her shoulder.

“So it isn't Luke?”, the girl said softly after a while. Julie choked and pushed down her tears. She shook her head, still buried in the pillow.

“But you thought he would be.” Julie went still and then shook her head again. “I guess I hoped it would be him.”

“Oh…”, Flynn mumbled and went back to rubbing her best friend's shoulder. While she had been against bonding with Luke and more one Team Nick, she knew that Julie had fallen for the ghost-boy. And, well, she’d mostly been against Luke because he was a ghost...which he wasn’t anymore.

“So did you tell the boys?”, Flynn asked hesitantly when Julie showed her face again and sat back against the headboard.

“Nope”, she croaked and cleared her throat. “I wanted to think and then tell the boys. But then they were busy trying to find Luke’s soulmate.”

Flynn opened her mouth and closed it again. “Wait so Luke met his soulmate too? When?”

“This morning at the Orpheum apparently”, Julie answered bitterly.

“This morning? Is he sure?”, Julie shrugged. “I don’t know, that’s what Alex said.”

“Ok, so you haven’t talked to him or, you know, touched him? I mean, what if he only realized this morning he could see colors? Touching him-”

“would either dull or brighten the colors.”, Julie finished, looking at Flynn wearily. “I forgot about that part to be honest.” Flynn was beaming. “But, Flynn, I really don’t want to get my hopes up just to be disappointed again, okay? And who knows, maybe Luke found his soulmate already.”

“Nuh-uh, you gotta be optimistic, okay? Everyone can see the way you two look at each other!” Julie frowned slightly. God, how she wanted to believe Luke could be her soulmate...she just didn't want her heart to be crushed when reality set in.

“Anyway, we gotta change that topic because we can’t do anything about it right now. But before we start the Netflix marathon we gotta go to the kitchen or I’ll starve.”

Julie laughed and rolled her eyes but followed her friend.

The two girls were in the middle of topping off their tortilla chips platter with cheese when the front door was opened.

“So, let me sup it up”, they heard Alex's confused voice. “You don't actually know you met your soulmate this morning, you just didn't realize before then that you could see colors? So you meeting and touching them also could’ve been yesterday. Which actually seems more plausible, if you think about-”, the blond boy stopped abruptly, Luke next to him, when he saw the girls sitting at the counter frozen up and...listening.

“But the only person you touched yesterday, other than us, is Julie so- ohhhh”, Reggie bumped into Luke and shut up when he saw their faces.

There was silence for about five seconds in which everyone in the room realized what Reggies statement meant before Flynn hopped from her chair. “Reggie, Alex, you have to help me pick out a movie upstairs. Now.”

And Julie and Luke, still frozen up, were alone.

“So-”

“I-”, they started at the same time. Julie blushed. “You go first.”

Luke nodded awkwardly and walked towards her, sitting down on the chair opposite to her.

“I didn't realize it till today. I don’t know why i thought it might’ve been someone at the meeting with Willie today but I thought you couldn’t see colors and I didn’t want to get my hopes up, and-”, he was cute when he rambled, Julie thought, but stopped him from any more talking by reaching out and taking his hand that was on the counter in front of her. Every color in the room seemed to get even brighter momentarily and Julie gaped. Luke did too.

“So, that was fool-proof.” Luke laughed lightly and slowly took her hand in his. Julie couldn’t stop herself from smiling.

“I didn’t realize it till this morning either. And i wanted to think first but then Alex told me you had met your soulmate this morning but i had to have met my soulmate yesterday so I thought- wait, did you just say you didn’t want to get your hopes up?”

Luke grinned but blushed. “I kinda thought it was obvious, you know, that you mean a lot to me.”

Julie’s heart seemed to beat faster and she squeezed his hand. “Well, apparently everyone but me realized it but...it’s mutual, Luke.”

The boy smiled widely and pressed a shy kiss to their joined hands. “Good to know.”

Julie swore she never smiled that hard ever before.

#netflix #jatp #jatpdaily #secret santa #julie and the phantoms #Julie and Luke #jatp julie #juke imagine #luke patterson #luke jatp #julie molina

40 notes · View notes

crybabysunflower · 3 years

Text

I had previously talked about a mystic messenger kpop au headcannon but honestly I have never written a single fanfiction in my life since I am actually not really confident about my writing skills.

However I have decided to write about how would it be if a mysme character is a kpop idol

Kim Yoosung as a kpop idol

He is either the maknae himself or belongs somewhere in the maknae line. (Maknae is the term for the youngest member of the group)

If he is the second youngest, its because they had added the new maknae in the final lineup just a few months before the group's debut

He is the happiest one to have the new maknae because he is tired of always being the youngest everywhere be it in his family or in his group, he finally gets someone he would love to care and protect. However he becomes annoyingly clingy towards the maknae.

Is probably from SM or JYP (these are entertainment agencies)

Main Vocalist, dancer

An underrated Vocalist. His group's fanbase sleeps on his vocals because it is not bold and strong like the other main vocalists of his group.

Has a soft, high pitched, nasally, smooth honey like vocals which is full of emotions and adds an extra dose of melancholy when they perform sad songs, thus making it very ideal for ballads. At times his voice can have a soulful quality if required.

His voice also stands out among the other vocalists so much that even the new fans can tell him apart from the rest.

Often performs girl group dance routines and actually nails them

Often ends up crying during concerts, fansigns sometimes during mid-performances (but he would still continue to perform) due to being overwhelmed by the audience cheering for his group and in various other situations.

Forgets the lyrics of his songs very often to the point that it has become a running joke among the fanbase

Has an ugly blue hoodie which is detested by his groupmates and also has become a running joke among the fans

Another running joke among the fans is that one time when he made some dish for his groupmates which ended up tasting awful.

The Sunshine of the group because of his bubbly, optimistic personality and his contagious smile.

Says a lot of dumb stuff and ends up doing a lot of dumb stuff unintentionally because of which he is often teased by his groupmates

Despite being the most teased member of the group, he himself is actually quite playful and loves to make his groupmates cringe by doing aegyo (aegyo is basically babytalking and making cute facial expressions and hand gestures).

Despite being the aegyo king of the group, he sometimes goes "I am not cute, hmph>_<"

When he makes his solo debut, he tries to go for a "mature" image therefore does a lot of sensual concepts.

But the fans who had been stanning the group for a long time still baby him because off-stage he is back to his childlike self.

Is quite cheerful and talkative at local variety shows but because he is not that good in speaking english, he is relatively quieter at the international ones

Is also quite shy while interacting with non korean fans because of the same reason

Although he might appear as the "dumb guy" of the group, he is actually quite intelligent since he contributes to the song lyrics or composition from time to time, but does not get enough credits for that.

Does not age at all. It's like he will be thirty yet still look like a teenager

He is very openly affectionate towards his groupmates and compliments them every now and then, his groupmates admire his kindness and his ability to take care of the members very well despite being one of the youngest.

He really really gets sad when the members overwork themselves.

Once during a concert stage he ends up injuring himself mid performance because of the intense dance routine. He didn't tell his fellow groupmates about it because he does not like worrying them and he didn't want to miss out the upcoming concerts and thus he tries his best to hide it. However he soon gets caught by the group leader who paid no heed to his pleas and forced him to stay back (for his own good) much to his chagrin.

He is also well known to be openly affectionate towards his fanbase which he expresses through his Instagram posts and his VLIVEs from time to time. (VLIVE is a video streaming app specifically for kpop idols)

During his VLIVEs he promotes his groupmates' solo activities by playing their songs in the background and asks his viewers to check out their new release.

In one of his VLIVE sessions he confesses that he gets a lot of hate comments but then tries his best to assure the fans that he is strong enough to deal with the hate.

He also gives optimistic yet comforting and empathetic advices to his viewers during his VLIVE sessions, such as telling them that they are all capable of staying strong despite all odds.

Frequently donates to animal shelters

He later gets offered to sing various Kdrama OSTs which also boosts his popularity

He is a huge ballad enthusiast and thus occasionally uploads song covers in their group's youtube channel

Please let me know how this turned out

If I get time, I will upload a drawing too

#mystic messenger #yoosung kim #yoosung #mysme yoosung #kpop au #mystic messenger kpop au

35 notes · View notes

my-happy-little-bean · 3 years

Text

The Bookkeeper – Chapter 7

Chapter 7: The Dispossessed

pairings: logan/patton (logicality), roman/virgil (prinxiety) words: 3399 chapter warnings: mild swearing, arguments chapter summary: with one sunrise comes a sunset.

[read on ao3] [masterlist]

< previous chapter

—

For the next couple of days, Logan felt like he was walking on clouds.

He glowed pretty much anywhere he went, leaving a dainty trail of blue magic dust behind each step. It felt as though the stars themselves were following him.

Since the night of the movie, Logan and Patton have been inseparable. Each day was a new adventure that not only Logan embarked on, but Patton as well. Together, they pieced together the fragments of Logan’s question — not to the point where he was able to write about any of it (everything he came up with was too annoyingly optimistic with not enough patched holes to make something interesting), but really, he had little time to write much nowadays.

Patton consumed his vision at almost any given moment. When he turned to grab a book off a shelf, Patton was already doing it for him. When he rolled over to the middle of the bed after a restful night, Patton was there, softly snoring beside him. When he blinked, there was Patton, alongside the feeling of blossoming flowers in his stomach.

And he found himself mere weeks before the university conference, but he couldn’t care less. All that mattered was that he was filled with a feeling — one of butterflies and light and the kind of magic that would flicker in a child’s eye, except now it’s right in front of him.

On one of the afternoons in particular, Logan found himself flipping in and out of Virgil Aries’ book, idly writing and, soon after, crossing out any progress he made. He wasn’t necessarily stuck—he had many avenues to go down—but he was swarming with so much new knowledge, he didn’t quite know where to start.

He levitated another book across the room with ease and brought it to him, just as the door opened.

“Heya, Lo!” Patton beamed. Logan felt his shoulders relax as he set the book aside.

“Hello, dear.” He walked over to Patton and kissed his cheek. “How are you?”

“Excited to see you!” Patton giggled. “What are you working on?"

Logan’s eyes lit up as he pointed to a few books on the counter, and lifted all of them into the air in a flurry of blue dust. Patton’s eyes went wide with awe as Logan let them circle around their heads, flawlessly flipping through each one and explaining the many ideas he had scrawled on sticky notes, which poked out of each book.

Halfway through his ramble, he heard someone clearing his throat behind one of the books. He frowned, swiping his hand downwards in the air and letting the book dip down in motion.

Behind the floating book was Roman, arms crossed with a slight frown. Logan smiled sheepishly.

“Ah! Roman, you’re up.” He quickly made a brushing gesture with his hands, and the books scattered back onto the shelves. “I hope I didn’t wake you, heh.”

“I just rearranged the books yesterday,” Roman grumbled, but shook his head. “And you didn’t wake me, I sleep as soundly as Aurora herself.”

Patton laughed, waving at Roman. “Hi!”

Roman narrowed his eyes at Patton and gave him a tired, but present, smile.

“Ah, Patton! Hello!” He let out a small yawn. “Just the person I woke up for.”

Patton tilted his head. Even Logan frowned, equally confused. Roman stared at both of them, deadpanned, and sighed.

“It’s book nook day, remember? You said last week that you’d rather have it today…?”

“Oh!” Patton looked at Logan with a frown. “Oh, shoot, I’m so sorry. I totally forgot about the book nook. I know we had–”

“Do you guys have plans?” Roman cut in, face twisted with disappointment. Logan concealed his wince.

“No, no, we can always postpone.”

Patton’s frown deepened.

“Are you sure? You’ve been looking forward to this opening ever since we booked tickets…”

“Janus can give us their own tour at a later time.” Logan took Patton’s hand into his own and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Besides, we may still be able to catch the opening depending on how long you are in the book nook with Roman.”

“Oh, not long at all!” Patton said, perking back up. Logan grimaced. Roman was steaming red, even without his magic.

“I sincerely don’t want to interrupt.”

Logan opened his mouth to protest before Patton’s eyes widened.

“Hey! I have a nifty idea.” He turned on his heel to face Logan. “How about you come with us?”

A beat of silence. Logan let the idea, and its implications, settle into his chest. It’s been...years, and it felt even longer than that. The last book nook he had been in...goodness, he didn’t even know what it was, but he knew it was his grandfather’s choice, because his grandfather was still around.

Even Roman, all hard feelings aside, gave Logan a worried look.

“I– I’m sure Logan has other things to do, Patton. Right, Lo? Don’t you have any writing to catch up on–”

“No,” Logan blurted out. Roman and Patton exchanged glances. Logan straightened himself up, clearing his throat and smiling at Patton. “I...I would love to join you both.”

Patton broke into a wide grin. Logan then looked at Roman, almost searching his face for any semblance of approval. Instead, he was met with a tight, almost bitter smile.

“That settles it!” Roman clapped his hands together. “Time for an extra special adventure, then! I would never have expected it to be like this, but...well, here we are…”

Roman flew past bookshelves and searched for possible books. As he did so, Logan felt Patton’s hand find his own.

“Hey,” Patton murmured. “Are you okay? I’m sorry for kinda jumping the gun a bit there, heh.”

“No, I’m...I’m fine.”

Patton frowned. “You don’t really have to come with us– I mean, I’d be thrilled, but obviously if you’re not comfortable…”

“No, no.” Logan brought Patton’s hand to his lips in a soft kiss. “I will be okay with you.”

Patton nodded, gently resting his head against Logan’s shoulder. Roman levitated a few books onto the front counter.

“Okay, so we have a few options here.” He juggled each book in the air over his head as he described them. “We got swash-buckling adventures, architectural wonders– ooh, this one’s in a series of books detailing the adventures a guy who solves moral dilemmas in his living room and is helped by the physical manifestations of his personality– it’s lacked new installments as of late, but it’s still fun...”

“Ah! Wait a moment.” Logan reached over Roman’s head and grabbed one of the books hovering in the air. He brought it closer to the eye's view and smiled. “How about this one?”

Roman flew to rest on Logan’s shoulder, reading the title aloud.

“Le Guin’s The Dispossessed. ” He glared at Logan. “Really? Kinda old, isn’t it?”

“I suppose, though I remember my grandfather reading this one to me sometimes.” Logan turned the cover to read the synopsis. “ ‘An ambiguous utopia’...”

“It sounds cool!” Patton said, grabbing Logan’s arm and pulling himself closer to Logan’s side. He scanned the synopsis alongside Logan. “All about the future and different planets and stuff– I don’t know if we’ve visited a sci-fi book before!”

“Hmm, fine. I don’t know what I expected from Sir Geeks-A-Lot, but whatever!”

Roman motioned for Logan to set the book open on the counter. He floated off of Logan’s shoulder and went to kneel on the pages, pressing his hands on the words below him. Roman looked down. His hands were starting to glow red, but ended up flickering in and out.

“Come on… ”

“Everything okay?” Patton asked. Logan looked over at Roman in keen curiosity, but Roman waved him off.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” Roman kept his stare glued to the page, muttering to himself, “Maybe I just need a running start…”

He cleared his throat.

“ ‘ It was the most beautiful view Shevek had ever seen’, ” Roman read aloud. “ ‘ The tenderness and vitality of the colours, the mixture of rectilinear human design and powerful, profligate natural contours’... ”

Words slowly began to lift into the air and weaved themselves in Roman’s faded, but pulsing, red magic. Logan, almost instinctively, held close to Patton, whose eyes were fixated on the swirling words around them. In the corner of Logan’s vision, he swore he saw a skyline.

“ ‘The variety and harmony of the elements gave an impression of complex wholeness as he had never seen, except, perhaps, foreshadowed on a small scale in certain serene and thoughtful human faces’. ”

Roman squeezed his eyes shut and finished his excerpt: “ ‘ This is what a world is supposed to look like’.”

And when Logan blinked, he was no longer in his shop.

Instead, he found himself standing on a hill overlooking a city skyline, double helixes of what he assumed were roads suspended in the air and circling some spires. A rising sun peeked through the tall building; and a faded, but ever present, moon eclipsed the sky, larger than life and persistent in the morning glow.

But this city was miles away from where he were. The grassy hill beneath his feet was lush and soft, and swayed gently in the wind. He looked behind him and saw a glimpse of a forest that lined his vision, which was filtered in warm colours; a stark contrast from any city he had ever visited.

And it was here , all of it. Logan reached his hand out and there it was: air from a different world. He was really here, in the middle of someone’s mind and creation. He was here.

“Wow,” Patton breathed out beside him. “This is so cool.”

“Le Guin has been known for her world building, grand and sprawling with rich imagery,” Roman hummed. He flopped on the book and exhaled slowly. “She was quite brilliant. Subverted a lot of typical speculative fiction tropes, especially for her time.” Roman smiled. “And she made these really good muffins…”

Roman’s words were drowned out by Logan’s mind as he turned around slowly in his place, capturing each landmark in his mind. It was all real. He was really in Urras– Le Guin’s interplanetary utopia– and he was really in her book.

“Lo?” Patton placed his hand on his shoulder. Logan jolted upon contact. “You’ve been quiet for a while...are you...okay?”

“I’m...I…” Logan took a deep breath and faced Patton with a shaky smile. In the distance, he swore he could hear the voice of his grandfather lingering in the air and continuing where Roman left off.

“I’m here,” he finally said. “I’m really here.”

“ Duh .” Roman laughed from where he laid on the book. “I told you, you’ve been missing out.” He smiled smugly. “Still think there’s nothing in books, Specs?”

Logan shook his head, not answering Roman as he sat down on the grass beside the laid out book. Patton joined him, watching the sun rise over the horizon.

“I can’t believe it was real,” Logan whispered. It was an illogical thing to say– of course book nooks were real– but he hadn’t been truly immersed in one for so long. Their existence barely flickered in the back of his mind.

“Just enjoy the view,” Roman murmured from beside him. For a moment, Logan thought Roman sounded almost proud – whether in himself or Logan, he couldn’t quite tell.

They sat there in relative silence for a few moments, only interrupted by Logan conjuring up a sketchpad and a pencil for Patton when inspiration had struck him. But he relished in the quiet, in the whispering winds that carried a story Logan now knew better. He rested his head on Patton’s shoulder and soaked in the company, feeling an absence that was buried deep in his chest become full.

“And what have you been up to these past few days?” Patton asked, snapping Logan out of his stupor. He hadn’t even realized that Patton and Roman were talking.

He looked down to see Roman fiddling with his thumbs.

“Nothing much.” Roman averted his glance from both of them. “I’ve just...done a bit of soul-searching, I guess you can say.”

Logan furrowed his brow, but said nothing. Patton obliviously nodded along.

“Right! That sounds fun!”

“Yeah, heh. Gotta have something else to do other than cleaning the book nooks.” Roman sighed wistfully. “It’s not a bad gig though. Plus, if someone doesn’t visit them for too long, they start to get a bit grey, heh.”

“Grey?” Patton tilted his head. Logan decidedly tuned into the conversation, intrigued.

“Not exactly,” Roman said. “They just...well, they lose their soul.”

Patton gaped. “They what?! ”

“I don’t know if you ever mentioned this before,” Logan said, looking at Roman. Beside him, Patton mumbled a whole list of books he vowed to visit.

Roman shrugged. “You never asked. Besides, it rarely happens. Reading the book is usually good enough, but visiting its nook kind of gives its soul a bit more of a kick.”

“So all books have a soul?” Patton asked, leaning forward. Roman nodded.

“Yup! Stories are people, and people are stories — and souls keep both alive.” Roman smiled softly, looking up at the skyline. “There are multiple parts that make up a soul, which is why you’re able to open different kinds of book nooks in one book. Some books have souls with fragments of knowledge, fragments of adventure and exploration; there are even some books with a soul so powerful that it could breathe life into its author.”

“ Wow ,” Patton awed. “So...souls are real.”

“Of course they are, padré!” Roman flew off Patton’s shoulder and hovered in the air in front of him and Logan. He pressed his hands together until they glowed red and pulled them apart, revealing a lively scene of books opening and letting out pencils and scrolls, airplanes and a solar system, hearts breaking and forming and pulsing with light.

“A good book has a soul that even those who are blind to magic can sense,” Roman continued, balancing each image in the air before they fizzled out. Roman pressed his hands together. “All I do is enhance them so they become physical manifestations. That’s why I usually only bring out landscapes. There’s very few books that have a soul of life. Not to say most books are bad, it’s just that it takes a lot of passion. And for myself, it takes a lot of energy. So I don’t get to do it very often, heh.”

Logan perked up. “Is that the aforementioned ‘powerful soul’ then? Passion?”

Roman nodded. “Mhm. An author can usually write one in their whole lifetime, and sometimes not even that.”

Logan’s mind raced, the new knowledge buzzing in his veins like a flame running down a sparkler.

A visit a day before the nook goes grey.

A soul so powerful that it could breathe life into its author.

Books that have a soul of life.

Passion . You need passion; you need revolutionary, blow-the-people’s-minds-in-ten-years passion. You need someone who has spent all their life wondering and wondering, and then you can–

The gears in Logan’s head stopped turning with a loud click! Logan’s eyes widened.

“So you can bring back Virgil Aries.”

A beat of silence.

(A building falls in the distance. No one sees this, but it does, Roman knows it does, it does with a crash and it kills the budding life beneath it, it crashes against xylophone ribcages and reverbreates the sound of a heart shattering again, Roman fucking swore he’d never let his heart drop this far again but it does, it does with a rattling clang, it does with the force of the storms that passed over the home he died in, he died, he died without knowing– he died and came back knowing, but he can’t go back, he just can’t .)

“What are you talking about?” Patton stared at Logan with wide eyes as Logan stood up, pacing back and forth across the hill.

“I…” Roman blinked, falling to the ground in a clumsier way than usual. For the first time in a long time, Roman looked lost for words.

“I mean, it makes sense, doesn’t it?” Logan continued. “I read Virgil Aries’ book everyday– sure, I don’t ever visit its book nook, sure, but that shouldn’t matter because Virgil Aries’ book is rich with his passion– it was his life’s work.”

“It wasn’t his–”

“Do you know what this means, Patton?” Logan ignored Roman and instead outstretched his hand towards Patton, who took it and hesitantly stood up alongside him. “It means that we can ask him questions — questions that maybe he never got to answer in his life– Patton , I could know everything. ”

“Love, I don’t think–”

Logan pulled away from Patton and knelt on the ground in front of Roman.

“Roman, please , we have to try.”

“I– I can’t just do this for some speech , Logan–”

“This goes beyond just ‘some speech’, Roman. I– I could publish this, I could finish Virgil Aries’ work– with his permission of course, just– just imagine what we could learn from him if we just had a moment of his time. ”

Logan felt himself vibrate with energy, catching a glimpse of his hands glowing blue in the reflection of Roman’s irises. Roman stumbled back, almost horrified, and turned away from Logan, shaking his head.

“The world can do without a couple of sad saps running around and placing seeds of doubt in people who are just trying to get by,” Roman said, bitterness dripping from his voice.

Logan gritted his teeth.

“Okay, Roman. Say nothing happens to my work. Say it goes nowhere. What if I just want to talk to him? Is that really so important to admit? What if I just want to talk to the person who built the foundation of my thinking. If you have the resources and energy you need to do this for me, why can’t you?”

“It’s more complicated than that, Logan–”

Patton reached out for Logan. “Lo, I think you should just–”

“I don’t understand, Roman.” A flash of blue darted across his vision. “All you do is open books and– and I don’t know, clean them?! I don’t understand how you can’t just do this one thing– just one thing for me–”

“I do a lot for you!” Roman snapped. Logan froze.

Behind Roman, Logan swore a piece of the sky fell down onto earth.

“I do a lot for you, Logan,” Roman hissed again. Logan heard the ground crack beneath him. “I force myself to sit down and listen to you go on and on about a question that goes against the very foundation of my being, yet I support you. I support you through and through, even if I know you know the answer. And I force myself to watch you use some– some stupid philosopher to guide your every purpose in such a small, short life– you don’t even know this person, how could you let them run your fucking life?!”

And suddenly, Logan heard the sound of buildings crashing. He tore his gaze off Roman to see the skyline crumble from miles away, then turned around on his heel to see the forests sinking down into the earth. He felt Patton grab his arm with a yelp, and then in the blink of an eye–

…

Logan jolted forward, crashing into a display table and falling onto the ground. Books tumbled down around him, crashing like the pieces of the sky that once filled his vision.

“Lo? Logan, oh my gosh, are you–”

Logan blinked, rubbing his head and adjusting his glasses. Replacing the skyline were shelves, and he was on wooden floors, not grassy hills.

He was back in the shop, and everything was gone , just like that.

He looked up and saw the blurry image of Patton sticking out his hand towards Logan. He shakily took it and pulled himself up.

“Where did– what–”

Before Logan could finish, his eyes landed on the shelves behind the front counter. In one second, he saw a blur of red move behind the wooden shelves. He swore the red glared back at him. And in the next second, it was gone.

—

next chapter >

#TS Storytime 2021 #gabbie writes things #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfic #logicality #prinxiety #logan sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #logan/patton #roman/virgil #logic/morality #creativity/anxiety

5 notes · View notes